Operation: Archangel
by The Shredded Snorlax
Summary: 8 years. It has been 8, long years, since the undead came. But salvation is on the horizon for Japan, and it sails to 'god save the king'. I do not own Highschool of the dead. All original characters are mine.
1. Prologue

**Operation: Archangel**

 **Prologue**

 _UNITED NATIONS SPECIAL ORDER #89278_

 _DATE OF ISSUE: April 1_ _ST_ _, 2022_

 _SUBJECT: MILITARY RECLAMATION OPERATIONS IN JAPAN_

 _In accordance with requests for aid from the remnants of the Japanese government in exile, the United Nations has approved the deployment of Military forces to the Islands of Japan to conduct military and humanitarian reclamation operations on behalf of the Japanese people in combating the undead in their homeland._

 _The objectives of this campaign will be as follows:_

 _1\. To provide the initial steps in the liberation of Japan from the undead incursion_

 _2\. To provide the UN with an operational base in the pacific and Asia_

 _3\. To establish the nation of Japan as a member of the UN_

 _Due to the location and island nature of Japan, the UN security council has decided that the military forces dispatched will be drawn primarily from the United Kingdom of Great Britain, due to their large naval forces, significant standing military, and expertise in conducting operations against the undead._

 _In accordance with this order, the United Kingdom of Great Britain is hereby commanded to assemble a task force, tasked with conducting long-term reclamation operations in the nation of Japan._

 _Signed_

 _UN Secretary General_

 _Robert Bottleman_


	2. Chapter 1

**Operation: Archangel**

 **Chapter 1**

 **May 12** **th** **, 2023  
Z-day + 2935  
D-Day-1  
The Sea of Japan  
16:22**

It wasn't a terrible start to their first official combat sortie since leaving Britain. It was a bright, promising spring day in the skies above the Sea of Japan with only three tenths cloud and a moderate side wind coming down from the mainland to the north.

The only fly in the ointment was that Jane's normally smooth running Harrier lovingly christened ' _Scarlet Witch_ ', was flying much rougher and heavier than normal. A consequence for having spent the last 2 months disassembled in containers on board a Royal Fleet Auxiliary support ship. Then again, Jane reminded herself that she hadn't been in the cockpit herself for 2 months either. After all, simulators were ok, but there was no substitute for real flight time.

Jane ran another sweep over the instrument panel, checking that the instruments were all indicating normal, before looking out the canopy to her flight. They were flying in a 4 jet formation, ideal for combat air patrols. Although they weren't hunting today, today was a shakedown, for both pilots and jets.

Hunter flight was a new and relatively strange flight, having been formed a year earlier during the reclamation campaigns throughout Britain as 'B Flight, 214 Squadron RAF, flying Tucano's in the Close Air Support (CAS) and reconnaissance role. But following the liberation of RAF Wittering, the squadron had been transferred to the fleet air arms 809 Naval air squadron and switched over to the jet powered Harrier GR9's that had been stored at Wittering following the decommissioning of the harrier fleet in 2010. And after only a few months the pilots had fallen in love with their new jets.

While Jane occasionally missed the dull roar of her old turboprop powered Tucano, its snappy control response, tight manoeuvrability and low stall speed. The harriers, however, were in an entirely different league. They were over twice the weight, twice as fast and could carry a far more substantial weapons load over a longer range. And crucially for this deployment, it could take off and land vertically from carriers and hastily prepared airfields.

"Hunter Lead to Hunter flight. Check in boys." She said keying the radio as her eyes glanced at her fuel gauge; roughly a quarter gone and they hadn't opted for drop tanks.

" _Hunter Two, All good over here."_ Of course, he was, Dan was always 'all good.'

" _Hunter Three, fine over here. Or I will be when I remember what all the buttons do."_ Jane chuckled. Richard did always have a sense of humour.

"I know the feeling Hunter Three." She replied with a smile.

" _Hunter four, alright over here."_

Max still sounded unhappy. Before they'd left Britain, his long time girlfriend had dumped him and he'd been in a funk ever since, not helped by his constant seasickness during the voyage over. He was the flight's newest recruit, just twenty years old and still wet behind the ears from flight school, still trying to find his feet and fit in.

"Let's rotate order flight." Said Jane. "Two, you take point, Three and Four change over and I'll take tail end Charlie."

They all replied "Ok." A little exercise just to keep them from slipping into complacency during their extended patrol, plus having Max flying in element lead might do his confidence some good.

"On my Mark... Three... Two... One... Mark."

They flew in a finger 4 formation; an unequal triangle with the Jane in the lead, Max on her left at 8 O'clock, Dan on her right at 4 O'clock in element lead and Richard at his 4 O'clock at tail end Charlie. It was a good formation for combat air patrol because everyone was covered and they could easily break off into element pairs if they needed too. On her Mike, Jane throttled down slightly and slid back out of formation. Dan pulled left slightly and slid into her vacant position while Richard rolled up and over and Max did the same but low and under into Dan's previously occupied space. Once Richard was in Max's former position, Jane slipped over into tail end Charlie on Max's 4 O'clock.

"Nice one flight, very smooth." Said Jane, pleased at the flight's slick formation change. "We'll stay like this for another 10 then switch it up again."

The flight settled down for another few minutes, Jane taking the chance to scan the beautiful horizon and sea below, enjoying the tranquillity until the radio crackled;

" _Hunter Flight, this is flight ops. How copy? Over."_

"Flight ops, this is Hunter Lead. Read you loud clear, over." Replied Jane. There was a _moment_ of silence before flight ops came back.

" _Hunter lead, flight ops. We've picked up a surface contact bearing Zero-Six-Two, range Forty miles from your position. Her transponder's registering as a Vietnamese ferry but is unresponsive to hails. Break off an element and take a look, report back when you have a visual. Over."_

"Roger flight ops. We'll take a look and report back. Out." Replied Jane before she addressed her flight.

"Alright, you heard the man. Hunter's two and three, hold here and stay close by if we need you. Hunter four, you're with me, break on my Mike."

" _Ok boss."_ Replied Dan, passing a thumbs up through the canopy to her.

" _Understood lead."_ Replied Max. _"Ready on your Mike."_ At last a touch of excitement in his voice, he could do with this. Besides, it not only gave him something to do but a chance to watch and learn from herself. Anyway, Dan was as experienced as she was, she could leave the flight with him.

"... and break." Said Jane. She throttled up a touch and rolled out and down, with Max following close behind. She felt a delicious punch of G as she inverted and dived towards the ocean below. As her harrier descended, it gained speed, accelerating from their cruising speed of 400 miles per hour to nearly 600 miles per hour. As the altimeter began passed 1500 feet, Jane pulled back on the stick, levelling out the grey jet.

"Still with me four?" Jane asked as she looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, Max's harrier was just behind her at her five O'clock.

" _Still here lead."_ He replied. _"I've got our bogey on radar."_

"I see him." Said Jane as she glanced at her own radar, spotting the speck on her radar screen. "Let's take a look."

The 2 jets powered over the ocean, following their radars towards the contact. As they closed the distance, a black speck appeared on the ocean below. Jane looked at the ship as it went passed, it certainly didn't look like a warship so she judged it safe to take a closer look.

"Let's go around again." She said before banking into a diving turn, throttling down and lowering her flaps slightly to slow the jet down so she could get a better look. Max followed her down, dropping speed and height to 450 miles per hour and 750 feet. Another pass confirmed that it was, in fact, a car ferry, its stack smokeless and adrift, but there were black specs moving on deck. Jane sighed as she pulled her harrier into a wide orbit and keyed the radio.

"Flight ops, this is Hunter Lead. How copy? Over."

" _Hunter Lead, Flight ops. Read you loud clear. Over."_

" _Flight ops, hunter lead, I have visual on surface contact. Looks like a car ferry. Signs of infection. Over."_

There was a moment of silence before flight ops replied.

" _Hunter lead, flight ops. Confirm infected sighted on ship. Over."_

"Confirmed flight ops."

" _Understood. Hunter lead. Move to a safe distance and laze the target. Out."_

Jane sighed again. "You heard him four, make altitude two thousand feet and maintain orbit. Prepare to engage Sniper pod."

" _Roger lead."_ Replied Max, he sounded down again, and Jane could understand why. During both the reclamation of Britain and the voyage to Japan, they had either spotted or sighted safe zones and ships that could have held survivors, only to find that they held the lifeless infected.

When the two harriers climbed and levelled off at two thousand feet, the pilot's engaged their Sniper Advanced Targeting Pods. The ATP's, as they were known, onboard camera switched on, pivoting on its mount for a moment before taking data from the harrier's onboard radar and rotating to face the ferry below, shining an Inferred laser onto the ship's hull. The 2 harrier's remained in orbit for a few minutes, continually lazing the target until a Harpoon anti-ship missile streaked in from over the horizon, exploding into the side of the ferry.

The ferry rocked on its axis from the impact, black specks falling overboard as it did, before rapidly succumbing to the damage caused by the missile, and rolling over and quickly slipping beneath the waves.

Jane looked as the ferry went down, before looking over her instruments and keying the radio.

"Flight ops, this is Hunter lead. Confirm target destroyed. I'm about at bingo fuel so we're heading back. Over."

" _Hunter lead, flight ops. Understood, we hold you as RTB at this time. Safe journey back. Out."_

"Alright hunter flight, RV and RTB. Let's go guys."

Jane and Max throttled up and climbed away from the black specks in the water, who only tried to reach for the noise of their engines as they slipped between the waves.

...

The task force's lights appeared on the horizon as Hunter flight approached. Flight ops passed them over to air traffic control, who in turn directed them into the holding circuit above the fleet while the decks were cleared for landing.

The fading red light cast a pale orange glow on the ships of Task Force Neptune, making them stand out from the blue shimmering. There were 10 ships in the task force; 2 Daring class destroyers and 6 Duke class frigates provided a protective ring around the fleet. In the centre were the 4 most important ships of the fleet; the Landing Helicopter Ship HMS Ocean (refitted as a improvised aircraft carrier), the landing dock ship RFA Mounts Bay, the container ship Edith Maersk and the cruise liner MS Queen Elizabeth, all packed to the brim with troops, supplies and war fighting materials. Jane also knew that somewhere there was an Astute class attack submarine submerged beneath the waves, watching for unseen threats.

Eventually, air traffic cleared Hunter flight to land aboard HMS Ocean. One by one, the 4 harrier jets descended and slowed right town, rotating their thrust vector nozzles to the vertical, suspending the 7-ton jets on a column of thrust besides the Ocean, before sliding in above the deck and lowering themselves down to land.

Jane came in last, waiting patiently as Richard's harrier was manoeuvred out of the flight deck's landing area. Aside from Hunter's harrier's, also on deck were Shadow flight's harriers, standing by to be scrambled to defend the fleet from air attack, as well as a few Green painted Merlin Helicopters, being made ready for the British landings in Japan.

Finally, Jane cleared the illuminated edge of the flight deck and settled her harrier down onto its landing gear with barely a bump. The crews ran out as she shut down the Rolls Royce Pegasus Engine and engaged the wing folding mechanism. The harrier was towed and parked at the side of the flight deck as Jane finished her post-shutdown checklist, a ladder was pushed up to the side and Jane's ground Chief Shaun opened the canopy.

"Good flight ma'am?" asked Shaun. Jane undid her straps and removed her helmet, feeling a moment of light-headedness as the compressing helmet released its pressure on her skull and let her red hair collapse out.

"Yes thank you, Shaun." She said with a smile as she pulled herself up and out of her seat. Paul let her by before following her down the ladder.

"So how did the witches broomstick fair then?" asked Shaun, pointing to 'Scarlet witch' with a thumb over his shoulder. Jane smirked, Shaun was the one who'd coined Her nickname 'the scarlet witch' after her blood red hair and bewitching looks and smile.

"Engine feels a little off and control surfaces seem a bit sluggish," She replied, "but everything else was perfect." Shaun nodded.

"I'll get those sorted ASAP Ma'am." He said, snapping Jane a salute before turning, barking orders to his fitter team. Jane shook her head and headed off with helmet in hand to where Dan, Richard and Max were waiting for her.

"Good work today guys." She said, "Anyone got any problems?"

"No ma'am." Replied Max. Dan shook his head. Richard had a smirking grin on his face.

"Well, there is this hot lieutenant down in engineering I've been wanting to get to know." He said in his thick Glaswegian accent, "Perhaps you could wingman _me_ for once boss?"

The rest of Hunter flight shook their heads in despair; the all knew what Richard meant by 'get to know', there was scarcely a woman in the fleet who did _not_ know...

"Piss off Richard." Replied Jane with a smile. "Go get some food and a rest. We're stood down till Zero-five-hundred. Make the best of it; it's likely to be the last we get for a while."

The flight nodded and saluted her before they cleared the flight deck and headed below. Tomorrow was going to be a very busy day.

...

 **May 13** **th** **, 2023  
Z-day + 2936  
D-day  
Flight Deck HMS Ocean  
06:00**

"Form up, you lazy buggers!" roared an ugly, skin-headed Sergeant with a pot marked face. "Do you miserable cock wombles not remember how to form up?! By the numbers damn it!"

The floor of HMS Ocean's flight deck rumbled with the sound of boots snapping to attention. The marines of 42 Commando stood in formation, company by company from first to sixth, while their sergeants looked for any sign of sloppiness from the combat-ready marines. At the walls stood an ensemble of pilots and sailors, watching the commandos with relaxed intent.

Ocean's flight deck was unusually spacious, the normally occupant Harriers, Merlin's and Chinook's were either being prepared on deck or aboard RFA Mounts Bay, either waiting to embark the Marines of 42 Commando. Once their parade was done, they would gather the last of their equipment and head for their transports, most would cross deck over to Mounts Bay and board either the heli's or landing craft that would transport them ashore to their target.

As with any amphibious operation, Operation Archangel called for the immediate establishment of a shore base of operations from where the campaign could be waged. To this end, the Marines would land at and secure Tokonosu International Airport so the engineers and support personnel could establish it as their base of operations. But first, the Marines had to clear it of infected presence with _minimal_ destruction to the remaining infrastructure.

A loud metallic clang sounded on the right side of the hanger bay as a bulkhead hatch opened. The water tight door opened and the pleasant sound of booted feet rang out across the hanger bay.

"Officer's on deck!" Yelled one of the Sergeants, his voice barely straining to project to just over seven hundred marines, sailors and aviators, followed instantly by the sound of 700 boots snapping to attention. When the officer's halted, the oldest of the Sergeants stepped forward and saluted.

"All present and accounted for sir. Briefings completed and equipment is loaded and ready. Flight and landing craft crews are ready to go. 42 Commando awaiting permission to board."

"Thank you, Sergeant," said the officer stood at the centre of the group. He looked up at the marines. "Stand easy." Everyone relaxed to a parade easy stance, intently awaiting their next instructions. The Officer took a step aside and allowed the chaplain, a tall man with balding hair dressed in his padre robes over his fatigues and clutching a copy of the bible in his right hand to step forwards.

"Please bow your heads for the four-two commando blessing." The padre announced. The marines bowed their heads and the padre raised his left hand and made the sign of the cross as he blessed the soldiers.

"May the blessing of god almighty, the father, the son, and the holy spirit, be upon you four- two commando, and all your loved ones. Amen."

The padre, having finished his piece, stepped off and the first officer nodded his thanks and stepped forward. Lieutenant Colonel John Richmond was a striking man; tall, broad-shouldered, and with a close cut head of dark brown hair, he was the poster of what a royal marine officer should be.

"Four-two commando," he began, addressing a sea of multicam fatigues, camouflaged faces, and green berets. "The chaplain has just blessed the most awesome, and arresting sight. It is a sight that I adore, and it is once again my pleasure to be your CO. Today Mikes the beginning of a new campaign, to begin the liberation of eastern Asia from the infected hordes."

He paused for a moment, he could see anger flare in the eye's of the marines, remembering experiences of the reclamation of Britain, Ireland, and other operations against the undead.

"Your mission today is critical to the success of this campaign," Richmond continued, "secure the airfield and we will have our springboard to begin our liberation of Japan. Unfortunately, our Japanese comrades have been delayed due to bad weather, so we will be going in alone. If you encounter survivors, remember that they have been alone here for over 2 years, tread carefully and treat them as best you can."

Again he paused, giving the marines a chance to remember memories of clearing and liberating safezones that he had no doubt stirred up.

"I wish you good luck, god speed, and I will stand at your shoulder throughout." He came to attention and saluted his marines. They instinctively snapped to attention and saluted back.

"Sergeant Harper," he said, "Get these marines loaded up!"

"Aye sir," the old sergeant replied, throwing the lieutenant Colonel a final salute before turning on his heels to face the marines.

"Right you heard the Lieutenant Colonel! Fallout and grab your kit! Section IC's take over!"

Richmond watched proudly as the marines fell out and grabbed their remaining gear from where it was stacked at the side of the hanger, before heading out to their assault craft.

...

 **May 13** **th** **2023  
Z-day + 2935  
Tokonosu International Airport  
06:15**

Trooper Mike Gallagher, commonly known as 'Coppertop' or 'Coppers' for short, watched as the Marines embarked the helicopters on the Ocean and Mount Bay's flight deck.

"The marines loading' up then?" asked Captain Antony 'Tigger' Fletcher as he set down a freshly brewed cup of tea next to Mike's AW50F rifle.

"Ja boss." Said Mike, taking a sip of the steaming brew, the heat was a welcome fresher against the dawn spring cold.

"Right," said Tigger, taking a sip of his own brew. "Let's wake up the midnight sewing club then." Tigger turned headed back the way he came, his Diemaco C8 carbine rattling slightly as it hung over Tigger's back on its strap. Mike quickly collapsed down his AW50 and followed, rifle in one hand, brew in the other.

"Right," Tigger said loudly as they entered the office that had become the troop's impromptu bunk room over the last 7 days. "Drop your cocks and grab your sock's gents. We have guests coming."

"Wha..?" asked a still half asleep Tim 'Snorlax' Rodney. "Who is i'?"

"Marine landing force, mate." Said, Mike, as he gave Hayden 'Oz' Forbes a kick in the boot to assist the Australian in waking up. Snorlax grumbled.

"Tell 'em t' piss off an' come back t'mora'." He said as he rolled back over and went back to sleep. Tigger sighed and shook his head and beckoned for Mike to hand over his brew. Mike reluctantly handed over his morning wake-up call and watched with half annoyance, half humoured satisfaction as Tigger emptied the black plastic mug's contents over Snorlax's sleeping head, causing the trooper to swear loudly as he jumped up, shaking his head clear off the hot liquid.

"What' ya do that for?" he asked irately. "Waste of a good brew that is!" Tigger shrugged.

"We've got a job to do and you weren't moving fast enough." He replied. "Oz, get on the horn to the fleet and get us an ETA for the boys in berets."

"Sure thing boss," Oz replied and set about fiddling with the troop's radio.

"Rest of you check your kit and get ready to move." Instructed Tigger. The troop passed a mix of confirmative responses and went to checking their kit.

Mike moved to his area of the room and set his AW50 down briefly before stowing the heavy rifle away in its rifle bag. He then brought his C8 carbine around from where it hung off his back and rechecked the weapon. His customised C8 carbine was fitted with a 10-inch barrel, sound suppressor, laser pointer/ illuminator, mag well grip, an EOTech holographic sight with a x3 magnifier on a hinge mount and back up flip-up iron sights. Satisfied his rifle was fit for purpose, he did the same procedure with the suppressed Sig P226 that sat in a thigh holster on his right leg before moving onto his ops waistcoat and webbing.

The troopers of Mobility troop, D squadron 22 Regiment SAS, had been landed on the undead occupied Tokonosu International Airport a week earlier, and promptly went to work preparing for the Royal Marine's landings; clearing and securing sensitive areas of the airport, setting up beacons for the landing craft and helicopters to zero in on, and setting up noise makers to lure the undead into areas where they could be killed on mass by air strikes with minimal risk of damage to the airport.

"First wave's due in 15 bosses." Said Oz. Oz was the newest member of the troop, but one of the most experienced. He'd been picked up when the fleet slipped into the Australian Naval base Coonawarra to salvage what they could. As a member of the Australian SASR, he'd been more than happy to be assigned to Bravo seven, and they'd been happy to have him.

"We set?" asked Tigger. The troopers nodded or gave thumbs up. he nodded and pointed to a map of the airport that hung on the wall they'd been using to plan their movements according to the landings. "Right then. Oz, you and Snorlax go down to the main passenger terminal and clear the entrance for the marines to come in and clear the rest of the terminal. Copper, you're with me. We're going up to air traffic to direct the air strike onto the kill zone. Like it?"

"Love it." Said Oz. Snorlax nodded in agreement. Mike spoke up.

"We haven't cleared the route to ATC yet have we?" he asked.

"No, we haven't," answered Tigger. "Problem?"

"Na boss," Mike said. "Just don't wanna fall behind on zed count by taking the easy job."

"Alright then," said Tigger as he unslung his C8 and racked the charging handle. "Let's do it."

The rest of the patrol charged their C8's and headed out, leaving most of their kit and making sure to lock the office as they left. They continued down a deserted hallway before emerging into the deserted boarding gates area. The 2 assault teams headed off in their separate directions. Snorlax and Oz headed off down towards security and the main terminal, while Tigger and Copper left through one of the gate's sky bridges that normally connected passengers from the gate to their flight.

"Well," said Tigger as he stood at an emergency exit door and looked out on the tarmac, "looks like the noisemakers didn't get _all_ of them..."

"I make about 90." Said Mike, making a quick count of the infected on the tarmac below.

"More than we, though." Said Tigger, He glanced at his watch. "We've got 12 minutes before the marines are due on the beach. We need to be in air traffic calling in the harriers in 7. I'll put a 203 in that garage over there and then we make like greased lightning for the control tower. Subsonics only. Get it?"

"Got it." Said Mike, double checking that the Pmag inserted into his C8 had a ring of red tape around the base, denoting that it contained subsonic 5.56 rounds. He raised his C8 to his shoulder and set up in a covering posture. "Ready on you."

Tigger lowered his C8 and held it in one hand while he plucked a 40mm HE grenade from a pouch on his webbing. Unlike Mike's C8, Tigger's was fitted with a L17A1 UGL, mounted on his C8's under barrel rail, while only Tigger and Oz opted to carry them on their C8's standard, the patrol had found that a combination of 40mm HE grenades and subsonic 5.56 was effective at distracting the undead and then eliminating any stragglers quietly.

Tigger loaded the UGL, snapping its breech closed before using the side sight to range in on his target garage. After a moment of stillness, he squeezed the trigger. The launcher made the dull thud characteristic of grenade launchers. The 40mm HE grenade sailed through the air and landed just where off from where Tiger had intended, exploding with a small flash and an echoing bang. It shredded one close by infected with shrapnel, causing it to topple over but failed to kill it.

The other local infected began to turn, moaning as they started to shuffle towards the sudden new sound. From their vantage point, Tigger and Mike remained deathly silent and still, waiting for their moment. They'd seen and done this over a hundred times all over the world and knew that they needed to wait for enough infected to take the bait, or they would have more than a few stragglers to do with.

"Wait..." whispered Tigger. Both he and Mike were wound tight, clutching their weapons and ready to move at a moment's notice, the result of both combat experience and their training based on the secondary meaning of the term 'SAS'; Speed Aggression. Surprise. Slowly, the majority of the infected crowded in and around the garage, with only a few stragglers remaining in the Brit's path.

"Go." Said Tigger. He slung his C8 on its strap and lowered himself down onto the fire escape ladder below them. As he dropped down, Mike moved into his vacant spot, weapon raised to cover him. He held sights on the closest of the stragglers, ready to drop it at a moment's notice. Tigger slid down the fire escape ladder and landed at the bottom, moving aside and raising his C8 as he dropped to a Knee.

" _Covering."_ He breathed into the mic.

"Moving." Replied Mike, slinging his own C8 as he dropped down the fire escape. Despite their quiet movements, the closest undead heard the sound of shuffling of fabric on fabric, boots on tarmac and the quiet _thud_ as Mike's boots hit the ground. Tigger pointed at the undead and clicked his safety off. Mike silently rushed forwards.

Tigger fired. His C8 made a silent _pfft_ as it discharged a subsonic round into its target. The undead jinked as the 4 gram round buried itself in its cranium. Before the infected corpse could collapse to the ground, Mike grabbed it under the arms, supporting its weight as he gently lowered it to the ground. The two operators looked around tentatively, miraculously; none of the other undead had heard them.

Tigger waved towards the control tower and they set off. Tiger covered the front and left side while Mike covered the rear and right side, moving as silently as ninja's, like free roaming turrets that were programmed purely to seek and destroy. As they got further away from the small herd, they increased speed slightly at the cost of making barely audible footsteps.

As they rounded the end of the adjacent gate block, the base of the Air Traffic Control tower came into view. Individual and small pockets on undead were dispersed along their route. The troopers opened fire with a staccato of puffs from their rifles. They let the corpses collapse by themselves; they didn't have time to catch all of them.

"4 minutes." Mumbled Mike as he glanced at his reversed watch. Tigger nodded slightly, they needed to motor if they were going to make it.

The air traffic control tower was a tall, sculptured affair that almost looked like a palm tree made of steel and glass, sprouting from a square based ground floor office building. Unlike almost every other building on the island, the building's doors and window's were armoured as a precaution against intruders. But Mike somehow doubted that the designers had taken a pair of SAS operators into account when designing it.

"What'ya reckon?" asked Tigger as they stacked up against the door. Mike took a look at the building with a critical eye.

"Armoured doors, bars on the windows, triple plate glass." He said. "Doors will be sealed if they were locked when this placed got EMP'd."

"Roof and walls?" queried Tigger as he popped an infected that got a bit too close for comfort.

"Probably lined with steel plate." Guessed Mike. "We're not getting in without making a lot of noise."

"Maybe..." said Tigger, pausing for a moment as he looked up. He dropped his rifle, letting the sling catch it as he stepped away from the wall. "Give us a boost."

Mike nodded and put his back against the wall, bent his knees and cupped his hands. Tigger bounced slightly on his toes before running forward, placing a boot into Mike's hands. Mike boosted up his commanding officer and Tigger pulled himself up onto the roof of the building. After a moment, Tigger lay down and lowered a hand to pull Mike up. Mike took a short run up and grabbed Tigger's hand and climbed up with his assistance.

"Ok," Mike said, "We're on the roof. Now, what?"

"Skylight." Said Tigger, pointing across the roof to a skylight. "No bars."

"It'll still be triple plate glass." Said Mike. Tigger smirked at him. Mike was worried, Tigger only ever smirked when he had a crazy idea.

"Let's test that." He said, he pointed his C8 at the glass and opened fire, squeezing off a chain of rounds into the glass. The rounds bounced off and chipped at the class and it started to crack and frost over. Tiger smiled and ceased fire before rushing forwards and jumping onto the frosted glass. When the glass failed to break under the weight of nearly 150 kgs of SAS operator in full assault gear, Tiger started jumping up and down to aid the process. Until eventually, the glass shattered under his boots and tiger fell through, landing on the floor with a thud.

"Clear!" he called back a moment later, "Come on down!"

Mike shook his head and jumped down after a moment, being careful not to catch his gear on anything. He landed in the room in a field of shattered glass. The room was a typical reception area with a pair of inert metal detectors and a security desk, behind which was door that had a staircase that led up.

"Alright, let's go." Said Tigger as if he hadn't just done something that was crazy even by SAS standards.

"Yes boss..." said Mike still not quite believing what he'd just seen. The 2 troopers moved through the inert metal detectors, half expecting them to go off, before vaulting over the security desk and heading up the stairs. As they climbed, they could see the fleet getting ready; transport helicopters holding on the flight decks waiting for the go, a pair of apache Longbow gunships orbiting the fleet, like a pair of vultures. Mike even spotted the grey form of 4 harriers flying high above the fleet, ready for their attack instructions.

As they climbed higher up the stairs, they could hear them, the sounds of moaning undead. The two troopers slowed their rate of climb to a crawl before stopping just short of the trap door that led into the control towers control room. Tigger pushed the door open a little, only to come face to face with a pair of shuffling boots. He looked around for a moment before closing the door silently.

He held up two fingers then pointed to his eyes – eyes on two – tapped a mag in his pouch – fresh mags – then tapped his head with a closed fist – breacher up.

Mike removed his half spent magazine and replaced it with a fresh one from his webbing. Tigger did the same. He glanced over at the Mike to check he was ready. Mike nodded that he was ready and raised his C8 to point at the door. Tigger put a hand on the door, ready to force it up, he held 3 fingers up with his other.

3... Mike slowed his breathing, making ready to pounce.

2... He switched his C8 to fully automatic.

1...

Tigger forced the trapdoor open. The infected that was stood by the door moaned reactively as the door hinges squeaked. Before it could do anything, Mike squeezed the trigger, sending a 3 round burst into the infected before him, causing it to fall backwards as the rounds buried into its head. It hadn't even hit the floor as Mike burst into the room, firing off another burst into the another infected by bank of computers.

Tigger came up after Mike and commenced clearing the other side of the small room. As he came up, there was an infected to his immediate right. It was too close so he was unable to bring his C8 to bear, so instead smacked it across the face with the back of his fist. It stumbled back and he but a double tap into its head before moving onto another one nearby.

Mike dropped a third infected that he'd spotted and swept around.

"Clear?" he called. Tigger turned to face him with a smile on his face, before a look of concern crossed his face and he began to raise his weapon on Mike. He fired twice before Mike could fully raise his weapon. Mike thought his CO had shot him, only he looked down and saw a dead infected on the ground with 2 fresh rounds in its head.

"Clear." Said Tigger, smiling again.

"He was already dead." Said Mike crossly.

"He was twitching." Shrugged Tigger.

"Twitching?" repeated Mike. "Of course he was twitching! I'd already put 3 rounds through his spine!"

"Whatever mate." Replied Tigger. Nerves tended to get frayed when in weapons were discharged in your general direction, even for the SAS. "Get the radio set up."

Mike nodded and unslung his pack and removed the team's radio set from it. He meddled with the control knobs turning it to the correct channel before handing the phone like speaker to Tigger, who was looking out at the herd of infected catered by the noise makers at the end of the runway.

"Hunter flight, Hunter flight, this is Bravo Seven-Zero-Alpha. Request air support..."

...

" _Hunter flight, Hunter flight, this is Bravo Seven-Zero-Alpha. Request air support on undead concentration at the southeastern end of runway three-one-five, attack heading northeast, approximate bearing zero-four-five. Hunter flight acknowledge. Over"_

Jane smiled, this was the call she and the rest of Hunter flight had been waiting for. Her flight had been orbiting the airfield for nearly half an hour with a payload of cluster bombs underslung, waiting to be dropped.

"Bravo Seven-Zero-Alpha," said Jane, "this is Hunter Lead. Understood, Attack bearing Zero-four-five on undead concentration on runway three-one-five. Standing by for attack authority. Over."

" _Hunter lead, this is Seven Zero Alpha."_ Came the voice in reply. _"You're cleared to engage. Over."_

"Roger Seven-Zero-Alpha. Attack commencing. Out." Jane pressed the transmit stud for the flight. "Come on then boys, let's get dirty. Three and I will go in first, Two and Four follow through. Understood?"

" _Got it boss."_ Replied Richard. Dan gave her a thumb up through his canopy.

" _Let's do it!"_ said Max. He sounded eager. This was his first time dropping bombs on a target, all his previous sorties had either been aerial recon or designating targets for missile or artillery strike. Today, he'd get to do what he signed up for, drop bombs on undead zombies.

"Ok, rolling in." Said Jane. She and Richard broke formation and rolled down, diving from 7000 feet to 1500 feet. Their bombs were set so they'd release their cluster munitions at 1000 feet, so as to provide a decent area of effect while limiting collateral damage. It was a tactic the RAF had learnt during the outbreak in Dundee.

2 harriers dived towards the ocean, using their flaps and thrust vector nozzles to control their acceleration. The 2 harriers levelled off, passing over the fleet at 250 miles an hour. Jane saw sailors and marines on the ships waving and whooping at them in encouragement, urging them on. As the 2 jets passed over the landing craft that were beginning their run into land the marines on shore. Ahead of them, Jane could see their targets, a large black blob of undead, clustered around a noise maker and target beacon set up by the SAS during the week before.

Her HUD gave a green digital path for her, a visual feed from the targeting computer that showed the point of release for maximum coverage, and her position relative to the drop point. For a moment, Jane wasn't flying over Japan anymore, she was flying over London, Staffordshire, Belfast, the Loire valley, and a dozen other places she had replicated the same attack run, before snapping back to Japan. Just before she and Richard crossed over the edge of the airfield, her helmet made a continuous, high-pitched _beeeeeeep!_

"Bomb's gone." She said coldly as she pressed the release.

Her harrier jumped slightly as the 2 CBU-87 Combined Effects Munitions, curtsey of the US Air Force, detached from her under wing pylons. Richard released his own cluster bombs a heartbeat later. The 4 bombs stabilised themselves as they fell towards the earth. When their onboard altitude sensor sensed they'd reached 1000 feet, the bomb's canisters opened, each releasing a cloud of 202 bomblets that blanketed the area above the infected. The bomblets were designed to be used against armour, personnel and soft skin targets and consist of a shaped charge, a scored steel fragmentation case and a zirconium ring for incendiary effects.

To say the results when dropped on a large group of decaying undead zombies were messy... would be an understatement.

Many dropped from air strike, either dead from being hit in the head, or crippled because their legs and bodies had been shredded. Normal people would be screaming in agony, but the infected just moaned and groaned as they always did, reaching for the noisemaker that remained running before them.

...

Tigger watched as the second pair of harriers came in, releasing their cluster bombs and blanketing the crowd of infected with a second air strike. He picked up the radio's handset and pressed the transmit stud.

"Hunter Lead, this is Bravo-Seven-Zero-Alpha. Confirm effect on target. Estimate 85% of infected KIA. Thank for the assist, have around on us tonight. Over. "

" _Bravo-Seven-Zero-Alpha, this is hunter lead. Understood, I'll charge the beers to the SAS's account. Breaking off for secondary mission. The Apache's will remain on station for air support. Call them anytime. Out."_

Tigger put down the handset and looked out of the air traffic tower's panoramic window. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his ops waistcoat and lit one, breathing deeply exhaling smoke. As he watched the landing craft disgorge their complement of marines into the surf, he mumbled to himself;

"Here we go again."

* * *

 **Hello there, I'm back.**

 **I've been taking a break from story writing and have since started uni, but I need to do something between lectures and seminars besides reading (and there is ALOT of reading) so I'm back to writing stories again.**

 **This story is one I'm going to work on during my free time (not much of that, ha bloody ha). I'll try to update every week or so, but no promises, uni work takes priority, and I'm not just saying that becasue my parents sometimes read these stories.**

 **Enjoy.**

 **J**


	3. Chapter 2

**Operation: Archangel**

 **Chapter 2**

 **May 16** **th** **2018  
Z-day – 2938  
D-Day+3  
Tokonosu International Airport/ Camp Wellington  
04:30**

She couldn't sleep. It was anticipation mostly, new skies to fly and a new war to survive, or maybe it was just getting used to a new bed on dry land after months at sea. But despite having flown 2, four-hour sorties the day before, Jane just couldn't fall asleep.

Jane rolled over on her camp bed and looked at the clock on the low table next to her; 04:30. She needed to be up in an hour anyway, so Jane rolled out of her bunk and got up. it was cold and dark, the sun hadn't come up yet. The accommodation tent around her was filled with the sounds of light snoring of other female members of the task force. Jane switched on the small maglight torch she always kept with her and walked over to her small cupboard. She started to withdraw clothes and get dressed - undershirt, olive green flight suit, flight boots- she paused at the final item; her flight jacket.

The Jacket was a standard issue, green flight jacket, with her squadron badge on the sleeve, silver fleet air arm wings just above the left breast pocket and a name tag with 'Brown, O+' sewn on beneath it. Each shoulder epaulette was adorned with the black and gold braided rank slide of a Royal Navy Lieutenant Commander.

She smiled as she brushed her hand against the epaulettes. At only 25, she was young to hold such rank, but after 7 years of distinguished service in the air force and later navy, she had more than earned it. She slipped on the jacket and headed out, pausing only to retrieve her Walter PPK and its suppressor from under her pillow, slipping the pistol into a shoulder holster and the suppressor into a pocket.

The Marine's may have secured the base of infected, but that didn't mean they might have missed one.

Jane stepped out of the tent and emerged onto the tarmac. She was instantly hit by a salty sea breeze. She shivered slightly and shoved her hands in her flight jacket's pockets before heading out. She passed by several other tents identical to hers, temporary quarters.

By noon of day two, the marines had declared the island airport secure, and the engineers had come ashore to start setting up infrastructure; either quickly repairing the airport's existing facilities, or setting up temporary facilities until they could get the airport's repaired and running again.

In all credit to them, the engineers had worked tirelessly to accomplish what they had in a day and a half. Jane passed a line of shipping containers, stocked with supplies waiting to be unloaded. She knew that somewhere among them were disassembled drones, helicopters and enough spares to build another 4 whole Harriers. Beyond them, however, was a far something of far more interest to Jane; her flight's Harriers.

The engineers had set up temporary hangers adjacent to the slipway, consisting of little more than metal frame arches and a canvas cover. Inside one of the hangers were Hunter flight's 4 harriers, their wings folded like flightless birds. Underneath illuminated floodlights powered by portable generators, fitter crews were working on two of the harriers, armed with paint cans, brushes and nozzles.

As Jane walked towards them. As she crossed the border into the illuminated hanger, one of the fitters, a dewy-eyed young navy apprentice, almost dropped his paint can and bolted up to attention.

"Officer on deck!" he shouted. The other, more experienced fitters looked up and calmly put down their equipment before coming briskly, but in a more relaxed and practised fashion, to attention.

"As you were." Said Jane. The rest of the fitters relaxed while the young apprentice stood firmly at attention. Jane smirked as Chief fitter Shaun laughed and consoled the lad with a pat on the back.

"For god sake man, she said stand easy! Get back to work before you sprain something."

The young apprentice turned red before picking up his paint brush again and resuming his work. Jane smiled as Shaun came up to meet her.

"New recruit?" She asked. Shaun nodded.

"Transferred from the Iron Duke." He said, "Had a disagreement with a Wildcat pilot." Jane frowned.

"Nothing too serious I hope?"

"He caught the pilot jacking off to a picture of his mum." Replied the Chief fitter. "Socked him in the face and requested a transfer."

Jane didn't have an answer to that so changed the subject, observing the work that was being done on the harriers. "So Dan and Rich requested nose art then?"

Jane had never minded nose art on personal aircraft, in fact, she encouraged it. It bred a sense of personal pride, and occasionally satisfaction. She remembered one time, after a mission over Wales, when a group of infantry from the Scots Guards sort her out, only to thank her profusely for giving them air cover during a mission, without which they wouldn't have gotten out alive. They knew it was her because of the nose art on her Tucano, and since then she'd encouraged her pilots to do the same.

"Yeah." Said Shaun, turning to regard the art on display. Jane smiled as she got a more detailed look at the work, both were easily indicative of their pilots; Richard's harrier had been adorned with a large roaring lion with the words 'Lionheart' painted below, while Dan's featured a man in a 50's Sci-Fi space suit kicking a green alien in its overly large head with the words 'Mekon hunter.' None of the rest of the flight understood Dan's obsession with 50's comic books. Jane noticed that Max's harrier, however, was still painted in its bare grey paint scheme.

"Max still not requested any nose art?" She asked. Shaun shook his head.

"I asked him if I could put anything on his while we were doing the other two, but he said he couldn't think of anything."

"I'll have a word with him." Promised Jane. She glanced at her watch and looked out over the horizon, the first lights of dawn just beginning to poke above the horizon.

"I suggest you put away the paint cans and get ready for some new arrivals Chief." She advised, "The Japs are coming."

...

 **07:50**

The mess tent was bustling as Tigger dropped his 2000 calorie breakfast on the table occupied by the rest of Bravo Seven. The SAS troopers looked up at their boss but did not pause shovelling their full English breakfasts into their hungry mouths.

"Finish the briefing boss?" asked Snorlax through a mouthful of Cumberland sausage.

"Yup." Answered Tigger as he shoved a hash brown to his mouth. "We're being given 2 days to get fully operational."

"We could be operational in 2 hours," replied Oz. "Why do we need 2 days?"

"So our new local terp can get adjusted." Said Tigger. "And to find us a place to crash outside the wire." The rest of the troop's shovelling had stopped they stared at their CO. Snorlax was the first to resume eating and speak.

"Who's the terp boss?" He asked. "Some bloke from Jap special forces?"

"The Chief of 1st Squadron Prefectural police." Replied Tigger. The troop stopped again, this time with looks of abject horror on their faces.

"Plod?" asked Snorlax, unbelievably. "We've got some Tokyo beat cop desk jockey as our local terp?"

"Yes Corporal," Said Tigger with a smile as he looked at Snorlax. "and she's standing right behind you."

The Troop all spun round in their seats. Sure enough, standing behind Snorlax was a tall, attractive woman with bronzed skin, deep purple hair and red eyes. She wore a set of black ops coveralls, with a sig in a holster on her right leg, and a shit ass grin on her face.

"Gentlemen," began Tigger. "Meet Rika Minami. Chief of 1st Squadron prefectural police, and Sergeant in the SAT. And she ranked as one of the top 5 snipers in Japan."

"Not bad for a 'Tokyo beat cop'?" she said with a smirk. Snorlax face palmed himself.

"You could have told us she was SAT..." He grumbled at Tigger.

"What's the SAT?" asked Copper.

"Special Assault Team." Replied Rika as she helped herself to. "Kind of like SWAT teams, or SO19."

"Except they were trained by our boys in CRW troop so they don't just sit around waiting for the SAS to do their job for them." Chimed in Tigger, shovelling the last of his eggs and downing it with his mug of tea.

"Alright then. Rika, welcome to Bravo seven troop. I'm Tigger, or Boss, either or. That's Oz, Copper and Snorlax.

"A pleasure." Said Oz, standing up and offering a hand to Rika. Rika looked Oz up and down for a moment before smiling slightly and shaking his hand.

"Rika." She replied, before sitting down next to Snorlax.

"So what's the plan now?" Rika asked while stealing a sausage off Snorlax's breakfast, much to everyone's amusement and Snorlax's protest.

"Well," said Tigger, thinking for a moment. "We still need to get the kit off the QE2, find us some digs and grab us a tranny van."

"A what?" asked Rika, confused by the phrase 'tranny van'.

"White Ford Transit." Explained Copper, pausing for a moment to swallow a mouthful of tea. "Though it doesn't have to be a Ford Transit, or white. It's just a plain looking van that we can use for moving ourselves and kit around in without drawing the attention of any living locals."

Rika looked slightly confused. "I thought you brits were here to retake Japan _for_ us Japanese. Why would you need to move without drawing survivor attention to yourselves?"

The other troopers looked paused and looked at each other, unsure of how to answer, before Tigger put his mug of tea down and cleared his throat.

"Rika." He said calmly and evenly. "You were a cop. I've no doubt you've seen some of the worst of humanity in your time. Gangsters, drug lords, rapists etc. But have you ever encountered a rogue survivor group?" Rika shook her head.

"No." She said Truthfully. "Roughly a month after Z-day, what was left of the Japanese government abandoned the home Islands. We settled on some remote Islands in Alaska. The locals took us in and we banded together to survive. Sure we had occasional problems, but no rogue elements." Tigger nodded.

"When this shit storm started." He said. "People thought Britain would be safe, that the channel would stop them. It did too for a time. But as soon as things were going south, we realised it was only a matter of time. So we made plans. Hadrian's wall was rebuilt and, when the time came, the government, military and every survivor who could retreated behind the wall. 5 years later and we started pushing back south. 4 months in, a platoon of the black watch were spearheading the advance, all quiet. Next thing, the poor sods know their being shot at by a Challenger 2 tank."

He paused to let Rika process the information. Tigger continued.

"The black watch were armed with rifles and frags, not an AT weapon among them. Command didn't consider the possibility of someone using any of our left behind military hardware against us. Wankers. Anyway, 48 dead and 132 wounded later, some brave SOB rolls a frag down the tank's gun barrel, frags the turret crew and they manage to blow a track off. Eventually, they got the driver out. Interrogated him and found out these assholes were from a survivor group with a base nearby. Attacked the black watch they'd heard over the radio that we were pushing south to liberate Britain. They thought we'd abandoned them..."

"Cause we did." Said Snorlax incredulously, earning a look from Copper and Tigger. "What? Can't save 'em all." Tigger gave him a look before continuing.

"Command got ear of this and sent in an unarmed 6 man diplomatic envoy. The fuckers executed 5 of them and sent the last one back with a message. That 'any attack on our territory by the fascist traitor government will be repulsed and repaid.'"

Copper nodded and Tigger sighed.

"To cut a long story short. 6 Tomahawks, 2 airstrikes and an armoured ground assault later, turned out we'd not only levelled the base and killed the leadership plus a hundred or so fighters but also another hundred or so women and children who'd been there because they had nowhere else to go."

Rika gasped and Tigger nodded.

"It was like that wherever we went. Ireland, we got shot at there more than during the troubles. Tenerife, Gibraltar, Malta, Cyprus... goddamn Cyprus... it was the same. Some people...most people... were happy to see us. Some, however, weren't. After the Challenger incident, they put us back on extended reconnaissance ops. And we already knew that a tranny van was a great way to get around Britain with a low profile. Every builder everywhere has a van; to the untrained observer you're just another group of roaming survivors in a builders van. Not the British army's elite Special Forces unit."

Tigger drank what remained of his tea, before setting down the empty mug with a cold, serious face that sent a shiver up Rika's spine.

"Because of our low profile movements, we won't have another Dublin on our hands..."

"Dublin wasn't that bad." Said Copper. Snorlax and Tigger looked at him inquisitively. Dublin had become known as Britain's Huế, it had been a shit storm beginning to end. To hear a soldier who'd fought there say it wasn't that bad...

"I was with the guys who liberated the Guinness Brewery. The survivors there were grateful and gave us enough Guinness to get the whole battalion got shitfaced. The whole thing ended with a drunken rugger match with the MPs... but with no ball..."

The table was silent for a moment. But Snorlax cracked a grin, Oz tried and failed to stifle a laugh... and then they all burst out laughing.

Rika looked at them as they laughed. It was like she was looking at 2 sides of the same coin. On one side they were soldiers; some of the finest killers on the planet who could use their weapons like hands and hands like weapons and could take lives as easily as save them. But on the other hand, they were still a bunch of men. Between gunfights and killing, they did what men do:

Drink, fight and laugh.

Rika smiled. Yeah, they would do.

"Alright then," said Tigger, whipping a slight tear from his eye. "All joking aside, we've got work to do. Snorlax, you and Oz head over to the QM2 and grab our gear, all of it. Rika, you and Copper go over the maps and see if you can find us some digs for the next few days and somewhere we can get a van that works. I've got to go tell the wankstain's in the head shed that we'll be heading out sooner rather than later. Hope to it ladies!"

...

 **Camp Wellington HQ Building  
08:00**

Field Marshall Sir Barry Davies took another slurp of his coffee before returning to the report on his desk.

The Field Marshall's office was situated in what had been the airport's Managing Director's office. Aside from a bloodied sofa that he'd had removed, Davis had kept it more or less the same. He liked the comfy leather office chair, low coffee table and large panoramic view over the flight line through soundproof glass the office had so he saw no reason to change it.

The report he was reading was on his Japanese counterpart Lieutenant General Gombei Yamashita, and the current status of what remained of the JSDF after the retreat from Japan.

To put it bluntly, it wasn't much.

The Japanese government, after losing contact with the near entirety of the country and being forced back to a small salient in Kyushu, made the decision to evacuate from Japan altogether to Alaska. They took what they could, but a lot of their military hardware was either disabled by EMP's, destroyed during a brief conflict with the Chinese, or simply left behind so they could save more people. As it stood, their total armed forces amounted to a couple hundred troops, a handful of land vehicles, (none heavier than a Foxhound), 4 C-130's, 2-V22's, 2 Chinooks, a handful of Huey's and Blackhawks and a single J-2 fighter. Their naval forces were in somewhat better shape. They had their old flagship, the helicopter destroyer Hyuga, the Destroyers Kongo, Atago and Kirashima, a minesweeper, 2 submarines and one cruise ship.

The problem was most of these ships were worn and tired and needed major overhauls, especially the Kirashima; she still had a hole in her Citadel from where she'd been hit by a Chinese anti-ship missile. Almost all the civilian ships, save fishing boats, trawlers and a few cargo ships, were cut up for steel to build defences, houses, weapons, ammo and infrastructure. It might not be much, but it, plus what the British had brought with them, would have to suffice, everything else available was tied up with other operations around the world.

Over the years after the outbreak, survivor groups started to make contact with other survivor groups, and nation with other nation. As it turned out, there were many survivor settlements all over the world, mainly on islands, subarctic countries, coastal cities and some military installations had also held on. They were even in contact with a few inland settlements that had held on despite everything.

It took time of course, but trade started between the safezones, eventually they all started to work together to survive, even representatives from different nations were elected and the United Nations was reformed with the purpose of governing the reclamation of the earth from the infected and the survival of mankind. It wasn't perfect, but it worked. And a plan had been formulated to take back what was lost.

As things stood, no nation, either alone or together had the supplies, manpower and infrastructure to launch a large-scale land offensive against the undead across the continents, and the surviving UN countries didn't have expertise or resources to develop a bioweapon or something to use against the undead like they had hoped they would be able they wouldn't launch a ground war against the infected, at least not yet. Instead, the UN's armies were focusing on reclaiming islands and coastal facilities and establishing them as secure, self-sustaining, strongpoint's from where future operations in the area could be carried out.

So far it had met with great success. Strongholds had been established throughout Europe and the Mediterranean as well as a few in the United States, Canada and a few around Africa. And when a scout ship had found the remnants of the Japanese people surviving in Alaska, they jumped at the chance to set Japan up as a regional headquarters, and a springboard for the reclamation of Asia.

But first, they had to take Japan and to do that they needed more than one base in an offshore airport and, perhaps more importantly, they needed the Japanese government and military. To give them some legitimacy, otherwise, it would be easy for survivors to see them as invaders, not liberators.

A knock on the door of his office brought Davies out of his musings.

"Come in." He called. The door opened and a private from the Royal Staffs walked in, snapping to attention and saluting.

"Sir! The senior Japanese commanders just landed and our commanders are ready and waiting."

"Very good. Thank you private," said Davies as he swallowed the last of his tea. "I'll be along in a moment."

"Yes, sir!" replied the private slightly too loudly before snapping another salute and marching out of the room. Davies shook his head and smiled slightly. The private was young and fresh, still trying to find his feet and scared of disrespecting the wrong officer. But he was doing his job and he was right, Davies needed to get to the meeting. He stood up from his desk, grabbing his notepad and pen, spared a glance at the framed family picture on his desk, and headed off.

Davies travelled through the base alone. He'd forgone the normal protection detail that he would normally be assigned (claiming that he needed every available man on the line, not following him around all day) in favour of a loaded Glock 17 that lay nestled in a holster on his belt. During the short walk from his office to the meeting room, desk clerks, soldiers and logistics personnel stopped and saluted him. Davies returned their salutes with short respectful nods of the head. It wasn't long before he arrived at the briefing room; a dull meeting room with a large brown table with chairs dotted around it and pitchers of water on it. Standing in the room were 5 men. Three were dressed in standard British MTP camouflage, differentiated by their unit badges and their berets. while another was wearing his dark blue Royal Navy working uniform. The final man was dressed neck to boot in black ops coveralls and was fully tooled up to deploy into a firefight, not a meeting.

"Morning, all," Davies announced cheerfully as he walked into the meeting room.

"Morning sir." Said Lieutenant Colonel Richmond as he shook Davies' hand firmly. Colonel Evans, a stocky man with a grey moustache in his late 60's and the overall commander of the army contingent of the Brits assault force also shook Davies' hand and exchanged pleasantries. Rear Admiral Stanford, the Royal Navy officer in command of the naval assets of the task force greeted his army counterpart before the final man in camouflage, an officer in his mid 40's bearing the crown of Major and the desert tan beret of the SAS stepped forward. Major Tom was the commanding officer of the Special Forces units in the task force, numbering up to 2 SAS troops, an SBS troop, a platoon of pathfinders to back them up should they need it, and a handful of MI6 attaché's to help them with surveillance equipment.

"Major Tom." Greeted Davies. Major Tom shook the Field Marshal's hand.

"Sir." He said before gesturing to his tooled up colleague. "This is Captain Fletcher, CO of Bravo Seven troop."

"Captain." Nodded the Field Marshall. "How are the men?"

"Ready and eager sir." Replied Tigger, catching himself before he could add, "because they've been bored on ship for the last 2 months with nothing to do."

The Field Marshall nodded slightly before taking a seat on one side of the table. The other officers took seats on the same side as Davies except for Tigger, who opted to lean against the wall behind them.

After a moment, the door opened and the British officer's stood. Following the British aid that had guided them there, a man in JSDF Flecktarn camouflage, a man in JMSDF working uniform not dissimilar to Stanford's and a third in a police officer's uniform. All three of the men were of average height, grizzled looking and slightly bonier than they probably should. Although it was to be expected, they had been living in the Alaskan Subarctic without all the comforts and necessities of pre-fall life.

"Gentlemen, welcome." Davies greeted in English as the Japanese officers filed in and stood opposite their British counterparts. Davies started introducing his officers, gesturing to each man as he did. "I'm Field Marshal Davies, this is Rear Admiral Stanford who is in command of out naval forces, Colonel Evans who commands our army Forces, Lieutenant Colonel Richmond, Royal Marines, and finally Major Tom, who commands our special forces units and Captain Fletcher, one of his troop commanders."

"Thank you, Field Marshal." Said the man in Flecktarn. "I am General Miyazato Ryushi. This is Admiral Hiroto Masatake and this is Chief Inspector Miyamoto Tadashi. And on behalf of the Japanese people, I thank you for what you're doing for us." He and the other three bowed to the Birts. For a moment, they were all speechless, until Major Tom spoke up.

"Don't thank us yet gentlemen." He said with slight humour, "We haven't retaken Japan yet."

"But still, thank you." Said Davies. "Now then. We have a liberation to plan."

The next few hours were spent discussing troop strengths, infrastructure targets, potential landing areas, cultural objectives, logistics and plans using reconnaissance photos taken by the Brit's reconnaissance flights and topographical maps.

"Sir's if I may," said Tigger, speaking up for the first time since the meeting began. The other officer's all paused and looked at the SAS officer. "What's our ROE regarding rogue survivor groups?"

It was a question that the other British officer's had been dancing around, but needed to be answered. The Japanese officer's looked slightly confused.

"Rogue survivor groups?" asked Admiral Hiroto, cocking his head at Tigger.

"Yes, sir." Said Tigger, looking the Admiral in the eye before looking at the Japanese officers in general. "Respectfully gentlemen, you can't expect every survivor group we come across to come back into the fold peacefully. Some will, but other's will fight us."

"Why would they do that?" asked the Admiral. Tigger was mildly surprised at the Admiral's naivety, although he judged from the looks on their faces, the General and inspector knew what he was getting at.

"Respectfully sir," said Tigger. "You abandoned these people to fend for themselves against the undead. We did the same in Britain, and so did almost every other nation who's government still exists in some form or another. If you or we come strolling back in and demand they return to the fold, they're going to fight. I just want to know if we're allowed to fire back when the shooting starts."

"Captain!" snapped Davies. "That is quite enough." The Field Marshal was about to berate the Captain and order him to apologise when General Miyazato cut him off.

"He's right Field Marshall." The General said, silencing Davies. Miyazato continued;

"We did abandon those survivors, and if they've survived this long and we come back and force them to join us... of course they'll fight." Miyazato looked directly at Tigger.

"What would you do Captain?" He asked. Tigger thought for a moment before answering.

"Depends sir." He said. "If, after observing the group for a while, I felt that there was no way to peacefully amalgamate them but they aren't that heavily armed, I'd either launch a light assault or make a show of force; park a Challenger 2 tank at the front gate or have a couple of apache gunships circle. If they were heavily armed, however, I'd either take away their ability to fight; sneak into their camp and destroy or remove their weapons and or ammunition, or alternatively, I'd remove the leadership; either assassinate or abduct key leadership personnel."

"Don't you think that's a bit extreme Captain?" asked Inspector Miyamoto. "To simply kill them if they don't want to join?"

"It's not because they don't want to join Chief Inspector." Replied Tigger. "It's because as long as certain people are in control, they won't come peacefully. It's a question of whether you'd rather kill 3 people in power quickly and quietly, or have a drawn out bloody battle on your hands. Sometimes a violent situation requires a violent solution. Sir."

"I think your career in politics may have ended before it began Captain." Said Major Tom. "How far off is Bravo Seven troop from being ready to deploy?"

"They'll be ready by now sir. We'll head to our new digs and await order's there." Said Tigger, taking the Major's hint. He pushed himself off the wall and walked out of the room without saluting.

"Violent one isn't he?" Commented Miyazato.

"Well, he is SAS." Said Major Tom. "We don't train them for hearts and minds. But he is right. Sometimes you either lose or lose big."

...

Tigger stepped out of the HQ building and walked across the tarmac towards a parked white Toyota HiAce van that had Snorlax, Oz, Rika and Coppers leaning against it, each with a cigarette in hand and dressed in their black ops coveralls with weapons loaded and hanging on straps.

"What's the word boss?" asked Snorlax as Tigger approached. Tigger stopped short and pulled a cigarette from the pack that Oz offered him and lighted it with a lighter from his webbing, taking a deep inhale before speaking.

"We're on." He said, "Head to our digs and wait on orders. We packed?"

"Yeah, boss." Said Coppers. As he took another drag from his fag.

"We got somewhere to go?" asked Tigger turning to Rika.

"My old place." Said Rika. "Duplex on the river. Plenty of space and should have a few cases full of guns and ammo, a low wall around it and decent gate, we should be able to get some decent sleep and if shit goes sidewise the navy can come get us."

"Oh fuck no!" Exclaimed Snorlax. "If shit goes sidewise and we need to pull out, we do _not_ call the SBS! I do _not_ want to be indebted to those gay-ass swabbies!" He turned to Rika as if it was a matter of urgency.

"This won't apply to you because you have boobs, but if they ask you to go below to inspect the golden rivet, punch 'em in the face and or balls."

"Understood," Rika said amused.

"If we're quite done briefing our new terp on the sexual orientation and inhibitions of our navy cousins." Said Tigger, pausing to drop and extinguish his cigarette. "Off we fuck."

The troopers and their SAT terp extinguished their cigarettes and climbed in. Shortly later, the white van took off screaming across the tarmac towards the ferry that would take the team ashore and into undead country.

...

 **D-Day+4  
09:00  
Camp Wellington**

Captain Griffin stood at the entrance at the back of the briefing tent. Waiting inside, bantering and conversing among themselves, was his platoon of twenty-eight Royal Marine Commandos from 42 Commando. Griffin was proud of his men, they were tough as nails, would follow his orders to the letter, and he knew, were gasping for a fight.

Griffin was about to happily indulge their request.

He was about to step into the tent when his apprentice, Officer Cadet Young scampered up to him. Young was a boy of Twenty Three, with a rounded happy face dotted with freckles. He'd joined the marines as an officer cadet, completed his training in Britain and been assigned to Captain Griffin as an apprentice to gain some 'on the job' training from the experienced royal marine Officer. Young was a good lad, Griffin saw that he had potential, but he wasn't quite ready to be a Royal Marine officer yet. He lacked a certain, the presence and authority that an RM officer should

"Sir." Said Young, saluting Griffin. "Motor pool said they've got our vehicles ready for us, they're fuelling them up as we speak."

"What've we got?" asked Griffin, not looking away from his marines in the tent.

"3 Mastiffs." Answered Young quickly. "Drivers are from the Royal tanks."

"Air support?"

"There's a flight of harriers making the rounds and a pair of Apache's on standby with the QRF."

"And the QRF?"

"2 PARA's A company is on standby with 3 Chinooks. We can call them anytime."

"Very good." Acknowledged Griffin with a nod of the head. "Right then, let's get this party started shall we?"

Griffin walked into the briefing tent with young following close behind. The platoon Sergeant, Staff Sergeant Roderick, stood at the front of the room and called the room to attention as the officer and officer-to-be entered the room. Roderick was a tough man in his 40's, he'd seen service in the back end of Iraq, Afghan and numerous peacekeeping tours before the fall and had fought back through Britain. Griffin was happy to have him as his Platoon Sergeant.

"At ease." Said Griffin. The marines sat back down in their chairs but did not resume their previous conversation, instead they waited patiently for their orders. Griffin pulled the cover off a whiteboard with maps and photo reconnaissance pictures stuck onto it.

"Operation Piccadilly," began Griffin. "Will be a series of simultaneous operations that will begin within the next few hours, with the purpose of establishing a series of Forward Operating Bases (FOBs). Our job will be to capture, secure and ultimately man one of these bases."

Griffin paused as there was a general murmur of approval from the marines. He waited for it to die down before continuing. He pointed to a point on the map which had a pin in it with a string which led to an aerial picture of a compound.

"Our new home to be is here, a disaster relief warehouse some 30 miles from here. It boasts a 10-foot concrete perimeter wall topped with barbed wire, a reinforced security gate and a large central warehouse hanger that we will build the majority of our base inside. Hot tub, to be installed next Thursday."

There was a slight murmur of laughter from the marines before Griffin continued.

"We will embark our landing craft at 10:00. They will deposit us on the beach here at approximately 10:20. We will drive to the warehouse and, conditions permitting, be there by 11:00 hours. Base to be occupied and secured no later than 12:00, at which point the engineers will come in and set us up."

He straightened himself up. The marines picked up on his seriousness he exuded.

"There is a better than decent chance this either is or was at some point a safe haven for survivors. Aerial recon doesn't show signs of life, but it is still possible. If we find survivors, we will do everything we can for them and call in the heli's to evac them back here. ROE is; Do _not_ fire until fired upon. We do this right, we're one step closer to liberating Japan. Any questions?"

A marine raised his hand.

"Sir, we going heavy or going light?"

"Go heavy." Said Griffin. "We can leave the packs in the Mastiffs while we assault the compound and bring 'em in later. Any other questions?"

There were none. Every marine wore a face of determination, they wanted to get this done.

"Right then," Griffin said as he looked at his watch. "The time is 09:07. Form up at 9:45 outside the motor pool. Assemble your gear, any problems or queries see your NCO's. Dismissed."

The twenty-eight marines stood and filled out of the tent. Griffin, Young and Roderick waited until they'd all left before Griffin issued some final instructions.

"Young," he said to his apprentice, "get your kit then go down the armoury and requisition some siege ladders and a backpack drone or two. If possible I'd like to take the base with its perimeter completely intact."

"Yes, sir." Said Young. Flashing a salute to Griffin before heading off to get his gear.

"He's a good lad sir." Commented Roderick, "just needs some time up shit creek I reckon."

"Agreed." Said Griffin. "See if you can get him some 'make work' tasks when were settled in?"

"'course sir." Said Roderick with a grin.

"Excellent." Said Griffin as he headed for the tent flap. "Let's go then sarnt. We've got a base to take."

...

Griffin returned to his bunk a few minutes later and gathered his things. He hadn't really unpacked his kit since he arrived, having expected to move on to a new post in short order. He stuffed the few non-combat essentials and personal effects he had out into his kitbag and zipped it up before pulling his combat equipment out from its storage place in a nearby shelf.

Griffin started with his battle belt. The MOLLE belt fitted comfortably over his regular fatigue belt and was held in place by an underbody armour yoke and secure buckle. Fastened to its straps from right to left were a first aid kit, utility pouch housing a water bottle and some merger field rations, a magazine dump pouch, and a CQB double mag pouch. Griffin jumped up and down on the spot slightly, checking the belt was secure and would make no loud noises that would attract undead before moving onto the next item of kit.

The Virtus plate carrier was a lightweight tactical vest whose protection level could be scaled up or down corresponding to the threat level. Griffin normally made do with a pair of ECBA plates in the front and back, he didn't normally bother with the sides due to weight concerns. Threaded to the MOLLE straps on the front were 4 double mag pouches, each occupied by a pair of 30 round Pmags with Magpuls. His vest's front also featured 2 spare pistol magazines for his Glock 17, a pair of frag grenades, a smoke grenade and a flashbang (the current standard grenade complement for a marine in the field), his PRR (personal Role Radio), a admin pouch which contained maps, radio frequencies, a multi-tool and on its front his zap-number and a union jack patch. On its back were a camelback water bladder and, its handle sticking out above his right shoulder, a sharpened kukri.

The kukri had been a gift from a Gurkha officer whose life Griffin had saved. It was sharpened to the point that even mild pressure against skin would draw blood, and it had proven itself many times in the field as a reliable weapon of last resort and for the quiet dispatched of infected, but also as a tool for emergency field amputation of bitten limbs.

Griffin adjusted his armour, settling it so its weight was distributed comfortably across his body, before securing his battlefield sterilisation kit, a respirator, thick rubber gloves, a small bottle of bleach and a termite charge, to his left thigh.

Satisfied his load carriage and protection was ready, he moved onto his weapons. He pulled his Glock 17 from its drop holster on his right thigh and removed the magazine before racking the slide to eject the chambered round. Despite what pre-fall movies would have you believe, not every member of a post-zombie apocalypse has a suppressor on all their weapons. Indeed, only special forces and forward recon units were issued them as standard. The rest of the army just had to make do.

Satisfied that his sidearm was fully operational, Griffin reloaded the pistol before returning it to its holster and moving onto his L85.

The L85 in its A2 configuration had been the standard issue rifle of the British armed forces for nearly two decades, and despite its reputation due to its disastrous first A1 iteration, it was a solid and reliable weapon. Griffin's was fitted out as a standard L85A2, a 4x Elcan Lightweight Day Sight (LDS) on the top rail and with a micro red dot mounted atop that for when things got really close. It also had a vertical grip pod on the underside of its railed hand guard, as well as a laser light unit for use at night. Ammunition was fed from 30 Round Pmags, of which he had 10, totalling for 300 rounds, and more was always carried by the patrol. The final accessory was a sharpened bayonet that lived in a pouch on this battle belt. It was a handy thing to have as either a utility or combat knife, but it also functioned as a wire cutter when used with its scabbard.

Satisfied that his weapons and ammo were all set and functional, he clipped the L85's single point carry strap to his plate carrier and loaded a magazine, giving it a few good tugs to make sure it was properly inserted. He let the weapon hang of the sling as he packed his day sack. What it carried was roughly the same to what had been carried by soldiers for thousands of years with only a few technological exceptions; spare underwear and socks, spare boot laces, rations, helmet, night vision, spare ammo, camouflage cream, basher, half of what was needed to assemble a battlefield stretcher, a woman's lingerie catalogue, a few things needed to make some noisemakers for a camp perimeter, and finally, his helmet.

Like most royal marines, Griffin preferred to only use his helmet when night vision was required, or the fighting got _really_ heavy. Normally, they wore their coveted green berets, the mark of a royal marine commando. It had a dual purpose. Firstly, it allowed friendly units to easily identify them as friendly, and it to let anyone who they were fighting, know just _who_ exactly they were fighting.

Just as Griffin zipped shut his day sack, there was a knock at his door, and Staff Sergeant Roderick stepped into the room. He was decked out in the same equipment as Griffin was, the only difference being the positioning of the pouches, but that was down to personal preference.

"The men are formed up sir." Announced Roderick with a salute. Griffin threw his day sack on his back and turned to Roderick, taking control of his L85 from where it hung off its strap.

"Very good, Sarnt." Replied Griffin as he stepped towards his senior NCO. "Another day, another unfucking, 'ay sarnt?"

"Right you are sir." Said Roderick with a humoured grin. The 2 stepped out of Griffin's former quarters and headed outside. Formed up in 3 ranks by section in front of 3 Mastiff's was 42 Commando's B Company, 1st Platoon. Captain Griffin's command platoon. Each of the marines was fully clad in their Virtus armour and wearing a green beret upon their heads, with only a few variations in kit and weapons telling them apart; an L85 with a grenade launcher here, a sniper or marksman rifle there, even a few light machine guns were being carried.

"Platoon! Platoon shun!" called Young, who stood at the front of the platoon in Griffin's normal spot. He stepped aside and yielded the command position to Griffin. Griffin looked at the marines once more. They were hard faced tough as nails and armed to the teeth. They were ready.

"With a magazine of 30 rounds, load!" shouted Griffin. The marines all broke from the position of attention and started plucking magazines from their pouches and inserting them into their weapons with metallic clicks. It was an old ritual that Griffin had begun years ago. No need for formal speeches, just load your weapons and get on with it, and it was just as effective.

"Make ready!" the Marines, Griffin included this time, racked the slides of their rifles. The sound of hard metal bolt carriers chambering a round from their magazines was welcome and reassuring.

"Right then." Said Griffin. "Mount up and let's go."

They didn't need to be told twice. The marines fell out and headed for their Mastiff's, climbing aboard the large armoured trucks. Griffin headed for the first truck while Roderick and Young headed for the second and third respectively. Griffin climbed into the driver's cab of the Mastiff, stepping up into the passenger seat nearly 3 meters off the ground behind armour and hardened glass.

The Mastiff was god sent in post fall warfare. It was giant, 6 wheeled protected patrol vehicle, an up-armored variant of the American made Cougar MRAP. It was developed for use against the Taliban in Afghanistan and was proof against IED's and rocket-propelled grenades, both of which Griffin had been on the receiving end of post fall. Its massive size and armour also had an unseen advantage against the undead. You could be surrounded by a thousand-strong herd of undead inside this thing and keep going, its massive tyres, designed to cross the roughest of terrain, would simply keep rolling over the undead and as long as you remained buttoned up inside, you were safe.

The door slammed shut behind and a voice came from the rear passenger compartment.

"All aboard!" announced a marine from the back. Griffin tapped the bulkhead twice with a closed fist before turning to the young driver.

"Drive on driver."

The driver nodded and turned over the Mastiff's massive engine. The huge C-7 diesel engine roared to life, and the twenty-three-tonne truck headed out.

* * *

*Terp:- Interpreter

*Plod:- British slang for police

 **Chapter 2 is here (obviously... you just read it...)**

 **just to let you know, I've got 3 done but 4 won't be done for a while. Blame university assignments, not me!**

 **But yeah, Rika's back! Thoughts on placing her with the SAS? A new group introduced, the Royal Marines, they're going to feature strongly in this story and I've got a few things up my sleeves with them.**

 **Please review/ favourite/ follow.**

 **Anyway, I gotta get to a lecture! Tatty bye!  
**

 **J**


	4. Chapter 3

**Operation: Archangel**

 **Chapter 3**

 **Rika's apartment  
Z-day - 2939  
D-Day+4  
05:15  
**

Rika began to stir as the morning light cast onto her face as it seeped through the blinds. For a moment, she was confused as to where she was before she remembered she was back in her old apartment.

She sat up on the double bed and had another look around the room. It was a shadow of how she remembered it. The paint was cracked. Damp and mould had set in throughout the house. And someone had been there at some point. All her clothes were gone and her gun cabinets had been forced open and looted, right down to the last round. She sighed; she was going to miss that AR-10.

She looked over at the empty clothes draws. She knew Shizuka had been here before the EMP, she'd said in the phone call she'd borrowed her guns... that had been the last thing she'd heard from her. Shizuka was smarter than her ditzy persona let on, she hoped she was alive somewhere, and not walking around as one of those undead mother...

"Morning."

Rika was startled. Over in the corner was Coppers on lookout duty, sitting on a chair in the corner. Rika hadn't noticed he was there until he spoke.

"Morning." Said Rika, shaking off the surprise. She climbed out of bed, dressed in only a sports bra and a pair of underwear. She caught Coppers looking at her slightly longer than normal.

"See something you like?"

"Sorry." Said Coppers, turning away to look through the small gap in the blinds to look down the street. "Not very often I get to keep watch in the same room as a pretty woman."

"Yeah," said Rika with a smirk as she pulled on a pair of black ops trousers, "because that doesn't sound at all stalkerish."

Coppers chuckled as Rika headed downstairs. It felt kind of strange after living in a cruise ship cabin for the last few years. As she headed down she was greeted by the loud snoring of Snorlax, who was sprawled out on one of her sofas, as was Tigger. Oz was down in the van, so no one could steal it while everyone else crashed in the flat.

Rika walked over to the kitchen area and checked the kettle; it was empty. She'd been initially surprised when the SAS troopers bought it out but even more so when Snorlax hotwired it to a car battery they had 'borrowed' from a Royal Engineers Land Rover proceeded to make a cup of tea with it. She went over to Snorlax's webbing and grabbed his canteen and poured its contents into the kettle and switched it on.

Rika wasn't sure what she thought of the SAS troopers to which she'd been assigned. They were certainly skilled, they wouldn't be SAS operators if they weren't. There was just something... off... about them. It wasn't the way they talked or acted. There was just something... dark about them. The kettle came to the boil and kettle filled two mugs with a tea bag in the bottom before heading back upstairs. Coppers was still at the window, looking through an old pair of x10 binoculars. Rika offered the ginger sniper the freshly brewed cup of tea.

"Cheers." Said Coppers as he took the brew and took a swig. "So what's your story then?"

"What'ya mean?" asked Rika. Coppers shrugged.

"Jap police sniper volunteers to go back into her zombie infested country with an SAS fireteam? Sounds like you've got something to prove." He answered, "Or you're looking for someone..."

"Don't go there trooper." Answered Rika shortly, giving him a glare. The ginger trooper just shrugged.

"Alright." He said as he held the brew in one hand and put the binoculars back to his face. Rika regretted her words and sighed.

"I'm sorry." She said, "it's just..." She sighed again and sat down on the bed. Coppers put the bino's down and listened.

"You're right. I was looking for someone." She began. "My partner and I, Tajima, were sent along with the rest of our SAT squadron were sent to the airport to deal with the outbreak there. We saved about a thousand people when the SDF turned up and evac'd them. Tajima was bitten when we attempted to kill a horde of infected with a fuel fire. During the fighting at the airport, I got a phone call from a... friend."

Rika paused for a moment. Coppers waited for her to continue.

"She said she was with someone and had been here and borrowed my guns. But before she could tell me where she was, we got hit by an EMP. I got the navy to drop me off in the city, armed to the teeth with weapons. I was going back for her. But a day after they dropped me, I got shot."

Rika pulled her top up slightly, underneath the lone of her sports bra was a bullet wound

"Some survivor saw me and opened up." She said grimly. "No more bikini's for me."

"Yeah," commented Coppers nodding. "I bet you look terrible in one." Rika gave him a smirk before lowering her sport's bra and continuing.

"I took a round and went down." She said. "Punctured lung. But I was lucky. Gato, a friend from the Special Boarding Unit, found me. Killed the shooter and evac'd me out. I woke up on a hospital ship a month later bound for Alaska. This is the first time I've been back since."

"What was her name?" asked Coppers. He could tell the whole thing was upsetting for Rika.

"Shizuka." Rika replied. "Shizuka Marikawa."

Coppers nodded. He raised his mug.

"To Shizuka Marikawa." He said simply and took a drink of his brew.

Rika looked at him as he drank. He was sincere, actually sorry for her loss. Maybe he'd lost someone and knew what it was like. Rika mentally shelved that idea and drank her tea. Maybe there was more to these troopers than she thought.

 **D-Day+4  
09:30  
Tokonosu Streets**

The large desert tan Mastiffs cruised down the streets, making the ground shudder as they went by. Captain Griffin kept a watchful eye out. He knew from bitter experience that behind every window could be a sniper, beneath each manhole cover an IED, in each dark alley someone with an RPG. Some called him overly suspicious, he called it' being ready for anything'.

"We're half a click out." Said the driver.

Griffin nodded to the driver and double checked his kit for the umpteenth time. Pre-battle jitters. After checking his kit Griffin forced himself to be calm, looking out the window. It never ceased to amaze him how quickly nature had taken back over. In terms of damage, Tokonosu wasn't that bad. There weren't many smashed windows, crashed cars or any of the other stereotypical things expected in a post-apocalyptic city. Indeed the only signs that something had happened was the rusted steel, the dirt, the ware and tare, and the grown plants and grass that had grown through in the years with no one to stop it.

On the way up they'd attracted the occasional infected, it was difficult not to when you were driving in a convoy of twenty-tonne armoured trucks, but they hadn't stopped to deal with them.

'Can't kill 'em all, at least not yet.' As his captain had told him when he was a young second lieutenant.

The mastiff turned a corner and their target appeared on their right; a large white aluminium structure with, as promised, an unbreached 10-foot high curtain wall around its perimeter topped with barbed wire, and a heavy solid metal gate. Griffin smiled, it would do.

"Pull us up next to it driver." Said Griffin. The driver pulled the mastiff over and parked it a few meters from the wall. Griffin clicked the transmit stud on his PRR.

"Top cover, what do you see?"

" _Few infected in the perimeter."_ Replied the gunner on the roof mounted GPMG. The Mastiff was tall enough that the gunner could see over the top of the wall. _"I count 12, old ones from the looks of em. Engines are drawing them in. Few cars and a small lorry by way of vehicles and a single large tent."_

"Alright, keep an eye on them," Griffin replied. He turned to the driver. "Kill the engine."

The driver turned the key and the engine's loud rumble died, with only a slight cooling tick coming from the engine as its inertia wound down. The other two trucks behind followed suit. The street quietened, but there were still a few infected coming out of the buildings coming towards the trucks. An infected started banging against the driver's door. He flinched slightly and went for a Glock he had taped to the underside of the dashboard, but he composed himself and silently waited for orders.

"Listen up," said Griffin into his PRR, addressing everyone on the patrol. "I want marksmen up top. They and top gunners are on overwatch. Keep the infected away from the rest of us. The rest of you, get the siege ladders out and up. 5-meter spacing's, and try not to cut the wire any more than you need to. As soon as we've secured the courtyard, I want everyone inside. We'll bring in the mastiffs then assault the interior. Got it? Good. Let's do it."

Griffin jumped out the mastiff, landing with a thud on the tarmac. He slammed the door shut and started forward. While the platoon only needed a few seconds to get itself ready, they'd be vulnerable. He'd buy them some seconds.

Griffin emerged past the front of the Mastiff. He raised his L85 and fired at one opposite him on the other side of the Mastiff. With a crack of rifle fire, the infected dropped dead. Griffin kept moving, he took two strides into the street and fired on two more infected about twenty meters away and they dropped.

Out of the corner of his eye, Griffin saw movement. It was the infected who'd been banging on the driver's door. He was too close to engage with the L85, he'd be on Griffin in a second. Griffin dropped his L85, letting the sling catch it. He whipped around and pinned the infected to the mastiff with his left arm across its chest, while his right hand went for his kukri.

The infected snapped and snarled at him, biting its black rotten teeth at him. It was all Griffin could do not to vomit at the mere sight and smell of the damn thing. He brought his kukri down like an axe. The infected's skull cracked as the hardened steel blade forced its way through and tore into its decayed brain matter. It stopped with the blade protruding halfway down the infected's forehead. It stopped moving. It just stared at Griffin with glazed over, milk coloured eyes. Griffin ripped his kukri clear with another crack of bone and a spray of gore. He looked down at the infected corpse as it slumped to the ground next to the mastiff's tyre.

Griffin shook his kukri clean of gore and returned it to its sheath on his shoulder, before taking up his L85 again and rejoining the platoon. Overhead, the marksmen started going to work. Armed with L129A1's fitted with suppressors and ACOG's, they could silence infected quieter so that undead further out wouldn't be as attracted. The rest of the platoon was just placing the last of the siege ladders against the wall; at the base of each one was a marine with their L85's ready. Griffin walked to the closest one and took the marine's place at the bottom. With the briefest of glances towards the other marines, Griffin started up the ladder with his bayonet/ wire cutter attachment fixed to the end of his rifle. He reached the top and started cutting a small section of the wire, no reason to ruin part of a perfectly good defensive perimeter.

Having finished the final cut in the rolled barbed wire, he gave it a gentle push with his glove hand and it fell inwards. Griffin stepped up a rung and slung his L85, keeping his right hand on the pistol grip, before stepping up onto the wall's top and jumped. Bending his knees slightly, he let them collapse and rolled onto his left shoulder, biting his lip as some piece of metal on his gear dug into his shoulder. He rolled up onto his knees and brought his L85 to bare.

But the area around him was clear, the sharpshooters had taken care of the infected inside the wall. He walked up to one of the undead where it lay on the floor in a bloody pool that stained the grey concrete, he gave it a slight testing tap with his boot. Despite the shot to the head, he wanted to be sure. Behind him, more marines started to land, landing with a dull thud as their boots hit the ground. He turned around and marched towards them, issuing orders to the marines as they passed.

"Hill! Smith! Get up that fire escape and get on overwatch! 2 sections! Get that gate open and get the mastiffs inside! Michaels! Owens! Get these corpses piled over in the corner! No! The other corner! Rest of you! Get on the door and get ready to breach! Fresh mags! Move it you lazy gobshites! Or do I have to do everything myself?!"

The marine's moved with drilled haste. 2 Section started pulling the heavy metal gate open and getting the mastiffs inside while everyone else jumped to whatever tasks they were assigned. Griffin felt an internal feeling of pride. His marines were doing their jobs, with no fuss or need to be told twice. Griffin removed his partly depleted Pmag and slapped in a fresh one from his webbing, before heading over to take point in breaching the main building.

...

 **20:49**

"Drop your cocks and grab your socks! We've got an op!"

Tigger marched into the apartment, dressed in black ops coveralls and with an MP5 looped over his shoulder. The rest of the team looked up at their CO for a moment before rushing to grab their gear while Tigger explained.

"Scout team from the Royal Welsh got hit earlier today. 2 wounded, one badly, some survivor took pot shots at them and ran. Predator drone tracked them to an apartment block about 6 clicks from here. We're going to go over and introduce ourselves to them."

He dropped a can of 9mm on the dining table in front of where Rika was sat, followed by a set of magazines.

"Top these off would ya love?" He asked with a smile. Snorlax then came up and dropped another 6 mags on the pile.

"And these while you're at it." He said, "And get a brew on would ya?"

"Sure." Said Rika with a smile before giving him the middle finger and then adding her index finger. "One sugar or two?" The troop all laughed at her response.

"I don't think she does domestics mate." Said Coppers as he pulled on his black MOLLE ops waistcoat.

"Then what does she do?" asked Snorlax incredulously.

"Look bang tidy in underwear," said Coppers as he stowed mags into his webbing. "And snipe targets from half a mile."

"Woohoo!" cooed Snorlax. "Looks like Coppers' in love."

"Fuck you." Cursed the ginger sniper. But Snorlax didn't let up and started to sing while dancing provocatively.

"Rika and Coppers! Up a tree! F-U-C-K-I-N...AGH!"

Snorlax clutched his family jewels which Rika had just kicked with her size 8 boot, hard. The other troopers laughed at the trooper as he sank to his knees and onto the floor while Rika simply walked over to the table and started pushing 9mm rounds into magazines. Tigger just shook his head at Snorlax despairingly and continued with his mission brief.

"Intel said the guys who attacked the royal welsh were armed with a double-barrelled shotgun and a semi-automatic rifle of some description. But the Royal Welsh guys they attacked said they seemed untrained. They were firing the shotgun beyond its effective range and the rifleman wasn't a good shot."

"Probably just some survivors who picked up an SDF or police rifle then." Said Rika. "The shotgun maybe yukaza or a private sporting gun."

"Intel's thoughts exactly." Replied Tigger. "Our objective is to remove any ballistic weapons so command can attempt to repatriate them. If at all possible we want to be in and out without them even knowing were there. Kill only as a last resort, or if there is a threat to life. Noise discipline is in effect so suppressed weapons and blades only, no 'nades or explosives. Questions, problems, quires?"

"If they put up a fight sir?" asked Coppers.

"Like I said Coppers." Said Tigger, "Kill only as a last resort. But we're authorised to sanction if they pose a threat to life." Tigger glanced sidewise at Rika. "Any problems with that?"

"No sir." Replied Rika as she shoved the last 9mm round into a magazine and handed it to Tigger.

"Good." Said Tigger, accepting the magazine and stuffing it into a pouch. "MP5SD's lads. Rika, take a C8 in case we need something with longer reach. Snor, get the breaching ram. We go in ten."

The next few minutes were spent stacking mags, stowing gear and readying weapons before heading down to the van through the driving rain that had swept in the last few hours. Oz was in the driver's seat, Tigger rode shotgun and everyone else was in the back with their gear.

"We're off." Said Tigger. "Keep it quiet."

"Yes, boss," Oz replied as he coaxed the engine into life after the third try it kicked over, belching a cloud of oily smoke behind it. Instead of turning on the headlights, Oz just lowered a pair of night vision goggles over his eyes, so they would be harder to detect visually if anyone was on look out.

The trip was quiet, only punctuated by the van's engine. Rika just stared at the floor, tapping her boot slightly. Someone nudged her shoulder, and she turned to see Snorlax offering a cigarette from a depleted pack, his own in his other hand.

"Light one up," He told her, "calms the nerves."

Rika took one of the cigarettes from the pack and pulled a lighter from her webbing, lighting her own before passing the Zippo lighter to Snorlax.

"Cheers mate," Snorlax said as he lit his own fag. Rika placed the Marlboro between her lips and inhaled. The initial rush of nicotine almost made Rika cough, but the rush hit her and she relaxed as she breathed out a cloud of smoke.

"Thanks." Rika said gratefully, "Not as good as my Cubans, but I needed that."

"Sorry Luv," said Snorlax. "Cigars are reserved for victory celebrations, special occasions, and officers. But we might be able to get some sooner or later."

"I heard some bloke on the Iron Duke's got a stock." Said Coppers. "Maybe we should go pay him a visit."

"I think we'll have to do more than ask." Said Oz from the driver's seat. "Swabbies rarely hand over their smokes just because you ask."

"We could give him a taste of interrogation training." Suggested Coppers before donning a Christian Bale's Dark Knight impression. "Where are the Cubans?!"

"Boys, boys." Said Rika, silencing them with her arms raised, before unzipping her ops top slightly to flash her ample cleavage slightly with an evil smile. "Sometimes you can catch more flies with honey, than vinegar."

Coppers and Snorlax looked at Rika, then each other in quiet contemplation.

"She's evil bro." Said Coppers.

"I know mate." Replied Snorlax nodding. "I knew she'd fit right in."

The journey continued until they pulled off the road and reversed into a parking space half a kilometre from the tower block. Oz killed the engine and checked the deserted car park for any signs of scouts or spotters. The scene was absent of life, infected or otherwise.

"We're out here," said Tigger. "Masks on."

The team removed their respirators from their belts and put them on before pulling their coverall's hoods over their heads. Their respirators were fitted with red tinted lenses so as to preserve their night vision.

"Oz, stay with the van in case we need to fuck off pronto." Instructed Tigger. "Rest of you, let's do this."

3 MP5's and a C8 clicked and the van's doors opened and the troop emerged into the driving rain. The rumbling sky and driving rain would mask their approach, and their black coveralls would make them all but invisible.

 _"Target is 500 meters north-west of here."_ Said Tigger over the radio. _"Let's move."_

Tigger took point with Rika falling in behind her and Snorlax and Copper covering the rear. They moved along the sidewalk, using long abandoned cars for cover as they moved, weapons floating at the shoulder ready to shoot.

" _Three contacts rear. Zeds."_ Said Coppers. The troop froze in place, not moving a muscle so as not to make any noise. After a moment, they slowly pivoted around, bringing their weapons around to target. Sure enough, there were three infected to the troops rear, ambling around the road. Their clothes had rotted away over the years and their grey skin was camouflaging them in the late night thunderstorm almost as well as the SAS's black coveralls, the only thing giving them away was the perpetual moan that all infected seemed to make.

Rika glared at the infected with hate filled eyes, her finger was flexing hear her C8's trigger.

" _Hold your fire. Let them pass."_ Whispered Tigger over the radio. Rika glanced sidewise at him, before removing her finger from the trigger. _"We don't want to leave a trail of corpses just yet."_

They waited patiently for the undead to move on. Eventually, they had moved far enough away for the troop to risk continuing on their way. As the troop moved on, Rika couldn't help but wonder if this was the same Japan she'd left... the buildings were in disrepair, some had completely collapsed due to no attention being paid to them. She could hardly believe this was her home.

"Hey." Said a voice as a hand tapped her on the shoulder. Rika looked back to see Snorlax staring at her through tinted lenses. "You're all right."

"Yeah," Rika said, more for her benefit than his. "Thanks, Snorlax."

"Cut the chatter." Said Tigger. "Eyes on target."

The target building loomed through the darkness, just over two hundred meters away to the north-west. The troop went silent again and melted into whatever cover was available. The driving rain and their black coveralls may have made them nearly invisible to the naked eye, but someone with night vision might still spot them. It never hurt to be careful. Rika moved up next to Tigger, who was crouched behind a car. Rika raised her C8 over edge of the car while making herself as smaller a target as possible. She removed her respirator's right night lens and looked down her rifle's ELCAN sight with night vision.

"Eyes on." She said, her voice barely a whisper.

"What do you see?" asked Tigger.

"One contact. 6th Floor, Southside. He's armed. Can't tell what from here." Rika said as Tigger jotted what she said down on a waterproof notepad. "He's pacing between the two eastmost apartments on that floor. He looks like he's about ready to fall asleep."

"Alright." Said Tigger. "Prepare to move. Move."

The troop moved out quietly and in single file. Rika kept her weapon pointing up at the balcony while the others were around scanning for threats. As they moved into the building and started climbing the stairs, Rika couldn't help but be reminded that, despite her experience, she was the noob here.

Almost since their inception, the SAS had been regarded as world leaders. In the deserts of North Africa, they had pioneered the idea of special forces, behind the lines, hit and run assaults on key strategic targets. The 'butcher and bolt' approach as Winston Churchill had called it. In the early 1970's they had pioneered counter-terrorism operations and countries all over the world suddenly wanted their own version of the SAS, many of which 22 reg, (As the SAS were otherwise known) assisted in the founding; American Delta Force, German GSG9, Australian SAS, and Japanese SAT to name but a few.

Post-fall, the SAS had proven their worth once again. In the early stages of the outbreak, SAS troops had provided a means to eliminate small outbreaks before they could become larger infestations. And even after the undead became too large for their limited numbers to handle, the SAS had been tasked with evacuating VIPs and national treasures, including the royal family from Buckingham palace when its defence perimeter was overrun. Even after the evacuation into Scotland behind the newly constructed Hadrian's Wall, SAS troopers had remained behind; securing resources, documents and national treasures that had been abandoned in the rush to save as many lives as possible. They also continued to aid and evac survivor groups that they came across. A few teams who were deployed overseas when it went south, even managed to find their way back to Britain through one way or another.

And now, they were putting their years of history, training and experience into practice. And as elite as she was, Rika couldn't help but feel outclassed.

The troop reached the final set of stairs that would take them onto the landing of the 6th floor. Up here, the rain was lashing down hard and the wind was howling like a wolf for its pack. The troop pressed themselves against the wall and Tigger called a halt. He removed a small mirror from his webbing and pushed it past the corner.

He could see the reflection of the guard. He was wearing a rain-soaked jacket with its hood up and had stopped pacing, now leaning on the corner rail looking down into the street. A flash of lightning illuminated the area for a moment and Tigger could see the outline of a JSDF Type 89 assault rifle in the guard's hands. Tigger pulled the mirror back and stowed it away. He turned to the troop and made some hand signals to the troop. They watched intently as he explained the plan is sign language, before nodding and moving up.

The troop silently emerged from around the corner. Coppers and Rika trained their weapons on the guard, ready to drop him with bursts of suppressed gunfire while Tigger and Snorlax slowly and silently crept forwards with their hands-free ready to attack. Tigger silently prayed that the guard remained looking at the streets below and didn't decide to turn around and discover the SAS operators

They crept forward, one step at a time, inching in on their prey. Another flash of lightning and rolling thunder allowed them to within two meters of their target before they stopped. Snorlax glanced at Tigger. Tigger nodded back and struck.

Tigger lunged forward, Snorlax right on his heels. He snaked his right arm around the man's throat and placed his left hand over the guard's mouth and nose and pulled him back while Snorlax grabbed the type 89 and wrenched it from the guard's grasp and pointed it at his heart. The surprised guard fell back, confused as to who was attacking him and why he couldn't breathe. He was panicking flailing his arms and legs as he tried to fight his attacker. In the flailing, Snorlax saw the man was trying to reach his right thigh. He glanced down and saw the guard trying to grab the hilt of a knife that was tapped to him. He was about to warn Tigger when the boss removed his right hand from across the guard's throat, grasped the back of his head, and twisted.

With a short, sharp crack of severed vertebrate, the guard stopped flailing and went limp. Tigger didn't release his grip for a full 5 seconds, just to be sure, before lowering the deceased guard to the ground. Rika and Coppers moved up to join Snorlax and Tigger and prepared to move into the room. When everyone was ready, with their weapons pointing at the door, Tigger turned the handle slightly and eased it open.

The room was dark inside. There was a short corridor that led to a single room, with a small bathroom just off from the corridor. The troop ghosted into the room, taking care not to make a sound. There were 4 people in the room, 2 adult men, an adult woman, and a young girl who could be no older than four. The child and the woman were asleep in sleeping bags on the floor while one man slept on an old sofa and another slept in a corner chair, snoring loudly.

Propped up against the wall next to the man in the chair was a double barrelled shotgun, just as the royal welsh had reported. Tigger kept his MP5SD trained on the man in the chair while Snorlax moved to grab the gun and Rika covered the man on the sofa. Snorlax also grabbed a crossbow that was on the floor next to the sofa before falling back out the door. Satisfied that they had got what they came for, Tigger motioned for Rika to fall back before retreating through the door himself.

Once out Tigger closed the door behind him and turned to his troop.

"Grab the body." He whispered pointing at the guard. "We'll dump him somewhere where no-one will find him. Let's move."

Coppers grabbed the corpse and fireman carried it as the troop moved out, disappearing as silently as they had come into the stormy night.

* * *

 **Well, here we are guys, Chapter 3.**

 **I got an assignment in today so I felt like writing again, so here you go.**

 **To answer some questions, no I will not be bringing characters from the Brit outbreak into this story because the two are not related, this is not a sequel.**

 **Next chapter isn't finished but is in the works, and shit's hitting the fan in the most colossal way possible... people die.**

 **As ever, thanks for reading, please Review, Favourite and Follow**

 **Jango**


	5. Chapter 4

**Operation: Archangel**

 **Chapter 4**

 **Forward Patrol Base Charlie  
Z-day + 2945  
D-Day+11  
04:30**

OC Chris Young sat cross-legged on the roof of the patrol base, quietly breathing in and out the cold pre-dawn air. Meditation was something that had been drummed into him from a young age by his sensei and mentor, master Busujima.

Before the fall, Chris had been the only child of a wealthy British businessman and his wife who died birthing him. His father was a banker and frequently spent more time Japan than Britain. He was educated in Britain in an all boys boarding school all his life, travelling out to Japan to be with his father in the holidays. But due to his father's work, Chris often had to amuse himself.

He fell in love with the samurai, and ever since he could remember wanted to be one. He frequented the major museums, studied their history, art and culture. He even convinced his father to take him to a kendo tournament one summer. That was where he met Seako and her father.

Chris was watching the junior category of a national tournament and was watching a purple haired contender going toe to toe with anyone in her age category. Not fully understanding some of the jargon that the officials were using, he asked the man next to him if he could explain. The man kindly did and explained to the young boy. It was only after that Chris found out he was the girl's father. Sensei Busujima talked more with Chris and his father and took a liking to the boy, and before the end of the match offered Chris a place at his school.

With his father's permission, Chris accepted.

From then on, he traded gymnastics for kenjutsu. Every holiday, Chris would travel to Japan and train at the Busujima schooland trained almost every day from before dawn to after dusk. He was trained in the art of kenjutsu, taijutsu, and meditation. Chris has proficient with a katana and wakizashi and had adopted the Niten Ichi-ryū style as his preferred form. He was also good at hand to hand, agile and nimble, although he did not have the same raw strength some of the other students had possessed, something which still plagued him even after joining the marines.

He'd been looking forward to going back for another year when the undead came. His father had been in the US on business, so he didn't know if he was alive or dead. Along with his school, he'd been evacuated north of Hadrian's wall. After that, he finished his education and was floating around for a bit before joining the marines.

When he'd heard he was being sent to Japan he'd been surprised, even more so when they said they were landing in Tokonosu. But because they were, Chris felt he owed it to Sensei Busujima and to Seako, the two people who'd made him into the man he was today, to at least try to find them...

Chris spent another half an hour meditating on the roof before his watch vibrated, telling him that it was time to go and get ready for the day's operations. He stood up and looked out as the sun was just starting to crest the horizon over the city, before returning to the base.

...

 **D-day + 11  
08:30  
North West Central Japan**

"Flight ops, this is hunter lead. Going feet wet over the Sea of Japan. ETA over Sado Island, 3 mikes Over."

" _Hunter Flight, flight ops. Understood. Next radio check at 09:00 out."_

" _I wonder who named it Sado island?"_ said Richard humorously. " _Maybe it's where they sent their equivalent of Trekkies. You'd be right at home Hunter 2. You're a pretty big Sado yourself."_

" _That's offensive to the Otaku three!"_ snapped Dan, although his voice was barely containing his laughter. _"I demand you apologise!"_

"Both of you! Shut it!"laughed Jane. "Or I'll blow your asses out of the sky!"

" _You wouldn't dare lead!"_ replied Richard. Jane throttled down slightly and slipped back out of formation so she was behind the flight.

"Weapons malfunction three." She said with an evil smile. "While changing formation my targeting computer went haywire and fired off a pair of sidewinders up your asses! No one would know otherwise."

 _"Better listen to her three,"_ said Dan. _"She'd do it too..."_

" _Yeah. Should 'a fragged her over France when we had the chance..."_ Muttered Richard. Jane smiled as she slipped back into formation, the light-hearted banter was one thing she loved about her flight, she only wished Max would join in occasionally. Aside from check-ins or reports, Max remained silent. He spent his time alone on base and his downtime always somewhere else. He didn't even come to the officer's club for a drink with them! She made a mental note to have a word with him when they got back. Suddenly, as if her thinking of it summoned him, Max came on the radio.

" _Hunter lead, this is Hunter 4. Take a look down on the water, 11 O'clock. There's something down there. Over."_

Jane looked out the canopy towards 11 O'clock. Sado island loomed in the distance as the flight approached from the west. She looked down and, sure enough on the water's was a large, black shape. It didn't have any visible superstructure except for a large central fin sticking up. It wasn't making any wake and was still in the water.

" _A whale?"_ queried Richard. Jane didn't dismiss the idea straight off, it was plausible as it was certainly big enough, but when Jane's cockpit alarm went off, it was clear what it was.

"Incoming SAMs!" Jane shouted. "Brake! Break! Break!"

The 4 harriers broke formation; Jane kicked her harrier over into a vertical dive and went for the deck. She glanced over her shoulder and looked at the submarine. 3 white telephone poles were climbing towards them on stems of white steam, one of them started angling towards her. Jane kicked her harrier onto a different dive angle away from the missile and hit the countermeasures button. The Harrier started to spit inferred flares and small strips of aluminium in its wake. The missile wobbled for a moment, confused by the sudden appearance of more heat signatures, before veering towards a flare and exploding .

Jane pulled back hard on the stick, her harrier shuddering under the intense G-forces as it pulled level barely twenty feet from the ocean. She started looking around for her, scanning the skies for any sign of her flight. Richard descended down and formed up on her wing, he flashed her a thumbs up through the canopy. He was ok. Jane looked thumbed the comm button on her joystick.

"Hunter two, Hunter four, this is Hunter lead. Radio check, over." She said, trying to contain the fear in her voice. There was a horrible silence over the radio before she repeated the transmission, slightly more forcefully this time.

"Hunter two, Hunter four, this is Hunter lead. Radio check, over."

"Hunter lead..." said a voice, it was Max. He sounded shell-shocked. "This is Hunter four, loud clear. Over."

"Status hunter four?" asked Jane. This was the first time the kid had been shot at. She needed to check he was ok.

"I... uh... I got fragged a little... but I'm... I'm ok." He said pausingly. Jane sighed relieved as she saw Max's harrier descend and join hers. It was trailing a pencil thin line of black smoke from its starboard wing but otherwise appeared undamaged.

"Understood Hunter Four. Any sign of Hunter two?" Jane asked. The radio went deathly quiet. She looked over at Max. His head was still, looking straight ahead. Jane glanced at her radar and did a full sweep. There was nothing. No radar contacts, no transponders signals. Nothing. Jane tried to call again on the radio, but it was dead. Whoever it was that had shot at them must have switched on a jamming system so they couldn't call for help.

The flight headed back in silence, and even after they got out of the radio jammers range, Max didn't say a word aside from essential flight dialogue. Jane let him land first as his aircraft was damaged. Richard went in next and Jane came in right behind him. They taxied over to their slipway and powered down. Jane had barely shut down her engine before she popped the canopy and leapt out. Ignoring the support crews, she sprinted towards Max's harrier. Max was sat at the bottom of ladder to his cockpit, his head in his hands.

"Max what happened?" asked Jane. Max looked up slowly, his face was red and tears were rolling down his cheeks.

"It's my fault..." he whimpered. "Forgive me..."

"What happened?" asked Jane, attempting to be calm but sounding more forceful than she'd intended. Max sniffed before explaining through his tears.

"There was a missile... coming for me... I evaded it... it missed, but... it required on him and... oh god..."

Jane was caught in shock as she processed what had happened.

"Did you see a chute?" demanded Richard, he must have followed up after Jane. He grabbed Max by the collar and hauled him to his feet when he didn't answer but just looked down into his knees. "Did you see a chute?!"

"No!" Max cried, his eyes were bloodshot and angry. "The damn missile hit him in the cockpit! He just went! He... He... It should 'a been me..."

"It's not your fault Max." Said Jane. Either Max didn't hear her, or he ignored it. Instead, he just curled up into a ball, just continually sobbing 'It should 'a been me.'

"I'll take him back and get him cleaned up boss." Said Richard. "You go talk to the squadron leader."

Richard said no more. He simply pulled the snivelling Max to his feet and put an arm over his shoulder before walking off towards the barracks. Jane turned on her heels and headed towards the command building to find her CO. As she did, she prayed that god would have mercy on that submarine's crew. Because when they got their hands on them, the Royal Navy sure as hell wouldn't.

...

 **Forward Patrol Base Charlie  
Z-day - 2945  
D-Day+11  
13:00**

It was mid-afternoon when Captain Griffin called a staff meeting in the ops room. Young had been on lookout duty with 1st platoons 2 Section when he'd got the call. He departed the section and headed down to the ops room. As he did, he marvelled at how quickly the base had progressed since its capture days earlier.

Since the partial capture of Yokosuka Naval base across Tokyo bay 3 days after they marines took the base, the brits had been able to start unloading more of their heavy equipment and support infrastructure. Patrol Base Charlie had been a priority to receive field equipment and had received a number of crucial assets. These included; a ops centre constructed from portable cabins, a Landrover battlefield ambulance and accompanying sickbay, additional perimeter defences, comms systems, containers full of food, weapons, ammo and relief supplies, a mortar pool with an attached section from the REME who came with their own FV512 Warrior armoured repair vehicle, a tanker full of fuel and another with fresh water, and finally, much needed recreational and living accommodations including a shower block, a block of porter-shitters and most importantly, field kitchen with cookhouse.

Most of the newly acquired infrastructure had been set up inside the disaster relief building to protect it from the weather but also to contain as much noise as possible. Only the fuel tanker, Mastiffs and perimeter defences were permanently outside, due to fumes in the case of the tanker, but for the need of space in the case of the mastiffs. After the capture of the base, second and third platoons and joined first platoon, bringing the company number to just over a hundred fighting men and personnel.

Young strode across the base and headed for the ops office, and entered the small temporary building. Inside was Captain Griffin as well as the second and third platoon commanders Lieutenants Carr and Lynch, and finally Staff Sergeant Roderick. They all were gathered around a table with a map of the area marked with safezones and objectives yet to be hit. Griffin looked up from the map at Griffin with a slightly annoyed look.

"13:00 means 13:00 cadet." He said before returning to consulting the map. Young passed Roderick a look before standing next to the staff Sergeant as Griffin began his briefing.

"Well, I'll keep this brief." Said Griffin. "We've got a herd coming in, estimated around four thousand. Drones picked it up here, and are bringing it our way." The officers nodded, they'd down this before. Standard procedure was to draw a herd to a prepared position and eliminate them there.

"Currently it's here," Griffin pointed at the map. "We'll face them here, at this bridge. There's tower blocks on our side of the river for snipers and a good number of cars for barricades and choke points."

"When?" asked Lieutenant Carr.

"ETA is tomorrow around 11:00." Said Griffin. "We'll send a scouting party out tonight at 18:00 to prep the area, then bring the rest of the company up just after dawn tomorrow."

"Sir," Young infected before Griffin could say anything more. "Request permission to lead the scouting party."

"Denied." Said Griffin, barely looking up from the map. "Sergeant Neale will lead the party."

"Then request permission to go with him, sir." Requested Young. He was praying that the officers now staring him down thought it was nothing more than him being eager to prove himself and nothing more.

"He could use some more field experience, sir." Said Roderick. Griffin stared at Young for a moment, as if he was staring into the man's very soul.

"Alright, cadet." Said Griffin. "You're on. Grab your gear and be ready to move."

"Thank you, sir." Said Young. He snapped a salute before heading out to grab is gear.

Despite his genuine need for more field experience, he had an anterior motive for volunteering for the scouting operation. Master Busujima's school was 2 miles to the northeast across the river from the engagement point Griffin had pointed too. It was the closest he was probably going to get and if there was anyone left there, there was a good chance that that herd was going to come right down on top of them.

...

 **Tokonosu streets  
D-day +11  
18:00**

The scouting party left the gate at 18:00, with Sergeant Neale at the head. Young followed close behind. The party consisted of Sergeant Neale's section from 2nd platoon, all battle hardened marines. They had stripped their kit down to the bare essentials, limiting themselves to webbing and rocket packs, and set out on foot. They moved quietly, leaving the commercial district the patrol base was situated in. They snaked past rusted cars and through businesses overrun by nature, using only hand signals to communicate and silenced any infected they needed too with their blades. Nobody spoke.

In its own way, Tokonosu in the evening was beautiful. The buildings were painted in a light orange glow that made them look less worn and less neglected. But still, it was apparent that no one alive had been tending to them recently, and the signs of the infected were everywhere. As the British advanced, the commercial buildings gave way to residential buildings; houses and small businesses. Where once, the proud people of Japan lived.

Suddenly there was a loud rumble and crash. The soldiers dropped to a knee and pulled up their rifles. They waited.

Nothing came. The section's marksman, a Private by the name of Barry brought his rifle up and looked down the sight.

"Looks like a building collapsed." He whispered into his PRR for the section to hear. "Probably just wear and tear."

"Alright, let's move." Said Neale.

The party carried on, and soon after reached their objective and their first real evidence of a fight. There was a good number of skeletons on the ground. According to what they'd heard, during the initial stages of the outbreak, the police had tried to limit the flow of the infected by setting up checkpoints at the bridges, only for them to be overrun a few hours later. The is must have been the case here, as there were a few skeletons in police uniforms and a few rusted police cars on the road. There were, however, no living infected nearby.

"Alright section, listen in." Said Neale. "Charlie fireteam will occupy the south-west building. Delta fireteam goes occupy the Southeast building. Cadet Young, you go with Delta."

Chris wasn't surprised. Neale hadn't wanted Young attached to his section, to begin with.

"Alright, let's go."

The 2 fireteams split up. Young and Fireteam Charlie moved up and stacked up on the building before forcing the lock and moving in. The marines swept through the house with the kind of experience that could only be earned through hundreds, in some cases thousands of hours of training and operations. The building was deserted. Once secure, they gathered in an office on the 5th floor.

"Aright," Said the Lance Corporal in command of Charlie. "Barry, you set up on the roof and set watch. Wills, watch the door. McNoah and I will set up shop in here. Cadet, you... umm."

Sensing the NCO's lack of knowledge where to put him, Chris suggested. "I can keep watch with Private Barry Corporal."

"Ok." Said NCO. "Let's get to it. Dismissed."

The team fell out without another word. Barry and Young headed upstairs in silence. As they headed up, Young noticed something off; Barry's rifle. It wasn't an L129A1 or a variant of the L96 family. He knew what it was, any soldier in the British army recognised a Lee Enfield when they saw one, but this one had been modified. While it still retained its oak wood furniture and bayonet lug, this one had been fitted with a folding Harris bipod on its fore end, a revised threaded flash suppressor to accommodate a suppressor, and a modern Leopold scope mounted on a bracket. Wherever he got it, Barry sure had one nice rifle.

"I'll set up here." Said Barry as he and Young exited to the roof, pointing at a set of boxes he could go prone on and observe over the bridge. "You do... whatever it is you do."

'If only I could.' Thought Chris. Chris took a moment to look around. If he was going to slip away to the Busujima residence, he'd need to do it quietly and soon. He looked off the edge of the building, 6 stories below was a dark alley, no infected. He did a quick kit check, ensuring that his weapons were functional, his maps were accessible and, just in case everything went wrong, he had food and supplies to last. Satisfied he was ready, he just needed to get away from Barry.

"So, Barry." Said Chris, attempting to engage the sniper in conversation. "Nice rifle you've got. Where'd you get it?"

"It was me, dads." He said Indignantly. "and the wooden stock is better for clubbing undead and annoying officer cadets over the heads with."

Chris was slightly taken aback by the answer, but he didn't have time to find out the source of the man's prejudice.

"Hey listen," Chris said. "I gotta job to do. I need to..."

"You ditching?" asked Barry. Although it sounded more like a statement than a question.

"I'll be back." Said Chris. Barry scoffed.

"Yeah, sure." He said. Chris gritted his teeth.

"Look." He said forcefully. "There might be people I care about on the other side of that bridge. If that herd gets to them before I do, they are probably going to die. I'm going to get them out."

"Whatever." Said Barry dispassionately. "Same cock and bull I've heard before. You ain't ditching because you've got someone to save. You're ditching because you're scared."

"No." Snapped Chris. "I am not ditching. I _will_ be back before that herd arrives."

"Whatever mate." Said Barry, looking back to his scope. "I won't stop you deserting."

Chris wanted to continue but knew his time was short. Instead, he simply walked over to the fire escape ladder down the side of the building and descended to the alleyway, before disappearing into the next building.

Training had taught him that the safest way to move at night was through buildings. Streets, while providing more manoeuvrability, left one more exposed to threats and sound travelled further. And Chris wanted to get some distance between him and the marine's forward position before he made his way across the river.

It took him just over half an hour, but Chris put about 500 meters between himself and the marines. It was well after dark and visibility had dropped. Even with night vision, the marine's would struggle to spot him in the dark at this range. Now he just had to get across the river, easier said than done. The nearest bridge aside from the one the marines were guarding was nearly 2 miles away, and his time was limited. Chris was going to have to swim it.

He spent a few minutes in the living room of the last house he occupied checking that anything he might need that would act adversely to water, such as night vision goggles and his rifles scope, were secured in dry sacks in his webbing and rocket pack, as well as a warm change of clothes. Getting hypothermia was not part of his plan. He stepped outside, crossed the riverside road and down the embankment, and stood at the edge. The river was black, slow moving at the edge, but much faster towards the centre back down towards the bridge. Chris tightened the straps on his pack and webbing as tight as they would go while still giving him the mobility he needed to swim. He summoned all the courage he had and waded into the water.

The river was cold, freezing cold. As he waded in deeper and deeper, his skin began to burn from the cold. His uniform offered no protection against the cold river water. He pressed on, fighting the cold and wading in deeper and deeper. When he got to chest depth, Chris kicked off the bottom and started to swim breaststroke, the far side was maybe 150 meters away, he had to keep going. His lungs burned for air and his limbs were going numb from the cold water. His kicks began to weaken and the weight of his kit began to drag him down, trying to pull him beneath the waves as he was swept down river.

Something was coming down river at him. Chris saw it out of the corner of his eye, black on black. An arm suddenly came up and over him, accompanied by a moan of an undead caught in the flow of the river. Chris only had one option. He sucked in a lung full of air and dived, letting the weight of his kit drag him down. The infected past over him, but now he had a new problem; he couldn't breathe.

It was dark, even with his eyes open all he could see was black with occasional whips of moonlight on the surface as he sank deeper. As a marine, he was a competent swimmer, but he knew that it was dangerous to swim at night under water, it was easy to get disorientated. Get disorientated, panic can set in, start to panic, you're as good as dead. Chris continued to kick, trying with all his remaining might to surface, but the weight of his kit was dragging him down and his cold fatigued body couldn't fight it. Chris knew he had to lighten his load. He tried to grasp his L85's pistol grip trying to pull it off his shoulder and ditch it. He missed at first but kept trying, his lungs felt like they were going to burst, he needed air or he knew he was going to die.

"Stop." A voice said. Chris obeyed; it was the voice of Master Busujima. "You can't calm the storm, so stop trying. What you can do is calm yourself, and the storm will pass."

Chris forced himself to be calm and reached for his rifle. He grasped the rifle, pulled it free, and let it go. The rifle vanished below, and the weight dragging him down lessened. Summoning energy reserves he didn't even know he had, Chris kicked as hard as he could, and forced himself upward.

He burst through the surface, gasping loudly as he sucked in air. Part of his brain yelled at him; if anyone had been watching him they couldn't have failed to miss his breaking stealth. As he sucked in air he looked around, he was far closer to the bridge than he'd expected or wanted to be, maybe 200 meters away. But he was closer to the far bank. He front crawled the remaining distance until he hit the thick mud built up on the concrete-lined river edge. He dragged himself out of the freezing river on his belly. If his marine drill sergeant could see him, he'd tell him to pull himself together and get moving. But Chris didn't care, he'd made it. He pulled himself to his feet and stumbled towards the sloping flood defences and leant back against them. He took a moment to compose himself, before drawing his pistol and clearing it, and scrambling up the hill and onward.

...

 **Camp Wellington  
D-Day+11  
21:30**

Field Marshall Davies sighed as he reviewed the report in front of him.

"Is it confirmed?" he asked the young lieutenant stood before him.

"I'm afraid so sir." He said. "Flight Lieutenant Dan Robinsons was shot down over the sea of Japan at 08:36. The flight returned to us at 09:12 and search and rescue efforts began immediately and are still ongoing, but so far to no avail."

"And we're sure there was no sign of the submarine?"

"Yes, sir. It had vanished by the time search and rescue arrived. However, we were able to confirm its identity from a picture taken from Pilot Officer Max Heinz's sniper pod. There's no mistake sir, it's an Akula II class submarine of the Russian pacific fleet. We were unable to determine the individual ship though sir."

Davies sighed and ran his hands through his hair. Incidence like this wasn't unheard of. Survivors see an aircraft, immediately assume they're under attack and open fire. It was unfortunate, but it happened, and now they needed this submarine taken care of.

"I want the Ambush deployed to the area as soon as. Tell them to find and handle this sub, by any means nesecerary."

"Yes, sir." Said the Lieutenant. He saluted before turning and heading out to relay his orders. Davies sighed. Since the landings, the British and allied casualties had come to 6 and they hadn't been in country a fortnight. He only prayed this wasn't an indicator of what was to come.

...

 **Tokonosu streets  
D-day +11  
22:00**

He had to keep going... he had to get there... he had to find them...

Chris had been stumbling through the streets for hours, hiding where he could to avoid infected before moving on. He was freezing, shivering all over. During his swim, his dry bag had come open in his rocket pack and soaked his dry gear, forcing him to continue on in his freezing uniform. As the night went on, the temperature plummeted, even though it was early spring, he could still see his breath before him. But he kept going, sheer determination to complete his task and save lives driving him forward... but even his body had limitations.

His vision was beginning to blur, exhaustion and hypothermia set in. Chris could feel himself slipping away.

A black figure appeared in the road before him, with two, maybe three companions. They stood before him, steadfast and still. In his exhausted state, Chris assumed they were infected and raised his Glock slowly in his shivering hand.

Before he could fire, one of the shadowy figures moved. The weapon was swatted from his grasp and clattered to the floor, while Chris was sent reeling from a sharp blow. He spun and collapsed to the ground, landing on his back and looking up as the three figures looked down on him.

"Master... Busu...jima..." he managed to croak before unconsciousness embraced him, and everything went dark.

* * *

Rocket pack: a small daysack made from the detachable side pouch of a standard issue british army Bergan fitted with a carry yoke. looks sort of like a sci-fi jet pack so is known as a rocket pack

 **Well there we are, Chapter 4.**

 **I'm going to start decreasing the length of chapters to around 4000-word lengths, so I can get them out more frequently without compromising my workload. If only writing essays was as easy as writing these stories...**

 **Anyway, I trust that you enjoyed this chapter. If you hadn't guessed, Young is going to be a main character from now on, stay tuned for more.**

 **As ever, Please review, favourite and follow. Feel free to PM me if you want, I'm open to suggestions and constructive critisizm and I enjoy talking with my readers.**

 **Jango**


	6. Chapter 5

**Operation: Archangel**

 **Chapter 5**

 **Herd Ambush sight  
Z-day + 2946  
D-Day+12  
08:00**

Captain Griffin jumped down from the Mastiff and slammed the passenger door shut and walked over towards where the battlefield command post had been established by the recon team.

The area had been a flurry of activity all morning. Troops had been coming and going, preparing firing positions stacked with ammo and preparing barricades, obstacles and funnels to limit the number of undead they would have to face at one time, rather than having to face them all at once.

As he walked through the building, marines stopped what they were doing as he passed and either nodded with respect or greeted him with a simple "sir," before returning to their tasks. When Griffin walked into the command room, everyone dropped what they were doing and saluted him. Griffin returned the salute and with a simple "as you were." They returned to their tasks, and Sergeant Neale stepped forward.

"Where are we at Sergeant?" asked Griffin.

"We've got a live feed on the herd. It's going to be a bit later than expected and should hit us around noon," said Neale as he directed Griffin to a laptop with a live feed from a reaper drone tracking the herd. As the captain observed, Neale continued.

"We've got 1st platoon's 1 and 2 sections on overwatch in the buildings while everyone else is set up with preparations. We've had a few stragglers coming in from the activity but nothing the outriders can't handle."

"Very good Sergeant," said Griffin, satisfied that preparations were well underway. But the sergeant still seemed uneasy. "Something else sarnt?"

"Yes, sir," he said. "OC Young sir. He disappeared during the night."

Griffin's expression suddenly dropped, and a glare of anger appeared in his eye. It was a credit to Sergeant Neale that he didn't flinch.

"What do you mean 'he disappeared'?!" asked Griffin angrily.

"He went up on lookout with Private Barry last night when we secured the position. He told Private Barry he was heading below to help out with something and that was the last we saw of him. Sir."

"Get that private down here! I want to hear what happened personally!" ordered Griffin. Neale simply nodded and headed off to fetch the marksman. Griffin just shook his head. Where the hell had Young gone and what the hell was he thinking?!

...

 **Unknown location  
D-Day+12  
10:15**

Chris' head was pounding as he started to come too. He blinked his eyes open, only to be squinting into bright white light. It took his eyes a moment adjust, but as they came into focus he realised he was in a room. The room was spotlessly white, with brown wooden beams across the roof. The floor was covered in padded mats while the walls were made from translucent paper that gave the room an unearthly glow. Chris was lying in a thick silk futon on the floor, comfort beyond anything he'd had since the fall.

Chris sat up. His head was still pounding slightly, but with the cold and fatigue gone, he could remember what had happened the previous night. He surmised the three shadowy figures had brought him here after he collapsed. While he would thank for their kindness, he needed to get moving. He looked around for his gear.

His webbing, rocket pack and pistol were nowhere to be seen. Even his boots and fatigues were missing. It was only when he recognised the absence of his clothes did Chris bother to look down at what he was wearing. He was wearing a white training gi, adorned with a white feather over a dark blue one of the same design.

The emblem of the Busujima family.

Chris was about to get up when the rooms sliding door opened. A young man in his late twenties and an old woman in her early 60's stood in the doorway. The man had a head of close cut black hair tied in a top knot and fierce yellow eyes, and was dressed in a training Gi similar to Chris', although his featured the added feature of a wide blood red obi with two swords, a katana and a wakizashi, tucked into them. The woman, by contrast, had kind blue eyes and silver hair. Her skin was tinged a pale brown and was wrinkled, giving her a grandmotherly like appearance. She was dressed in a pale blue kimono and carried a plate with rice and a steaming bowl of soup on it.

"You know Chris," said the man with a smirk in Japanese. "When I said I wanted to see you again. You being carried in on the verge of death by two of my men in the middle of the night was not what I had in mind. Stupid gaijin."

"Yeah well, I really wanted that rematch you owe me," said Chris. The man at the doorway's smirk broke into a laugh and Chris joined in a moment later.

"It's good to see you again Chris-san," said the man in the doorway

"You too Yamato," replied Chris. Yamato, along with Saeko, had been Chris' best friends in Japan. The three of them had gained a reputation among the kendo community, partly due to Saeko's family name, but also because there were not many foreign or gaijin practitioners in Japan itself. As well as being good friends, Chris and Yamato were firm rivals. They had often fought each other toe to toe in sparring matches, and because neither of them ever gave up, these matches would go on for a long while, usually until either Saeko or Master Busajima intervened.

"Not that it isn't good to see you Chris-san," said Yamato, his smirk disappearing from his now serious face. "Mind telling me what are you doing here?"

"That can wait!" snapped the old lady. Yamato actually jumped slightly as she glared at him disapprovingly for a moment before walking towards Chris with a warm grandmotherly face and setting the tray of food down on the floor in front of him.

"Thank you Terakado-sama," said Chris. Terakoda-sama had been the Busujima family servant before the fall. She had a certain grandmotherly feel to her and was kind and considerate, but also gave the impression that you didn't want to mess with her, and it wasn't just because Chris had seen what she could do with a nagitana. Saeko had even confessed to Chris in private, that Terakoda-sama was the closest thing she had to a mother, a secret he kept to this day.

Chris looked down at the plate of food; a small bowl of rice, a small bowl of watery soup and a dish of pickled vegetables. It was hardly a king's feast, but Chris guessed it was a good portion of their food, judging by how skinny Yamato and Terakoda-sama were. Chris pulled himself out of his futon and sat facing the food, said a ritual thank you, and started devouring the food. Yamato sat down cross-legged across from Chris and waited for Chris to finish, and Terakoda-sama knelt next to him.

It didn't take Chris long to finished the food, and when he did, Yamato asked him the inevitable question of "How did you get here and what are you doing here?"

Chris explained everything. The outbreak in Britain, the reclamation campaigns, refounding of the UN, the Japanese government's request for aid and the subsequent invasion, everything right down to how he ended up in that room and the oncoming herd. Yamato and Terkoda listened intently and waited for Chris to finish, before taking a moment to think about it themselves.

"It seems we find ourselves in a difficult situation," said Yamato. Terakoda nodded in agreement. Chris was slightly confused.

"How so?" he asked. To him, it was a simple situation with a simple solution. They needed to leave and if they didn't do it soon, they were going to be overrun.

"It is… complicated," replied Yamato. He came to his feet, before offering a hand to Terakoda, only for the old woman to dismiss it and rise on her own. "Perhaps I should show you."

Chris, still confused by the cryptic answer, rose to his feet, slightly dizzy as he came to full height but stabilised himself before following Yamato through the sliding door. Yamato lead Chris through what he now recognised to be the Busajima's school's storage house and out into bright daylight.

Chris stood on the raised wooden platform just above the central courtyard of the Busujima School. The entire school was surrounded by a high curtain wall and contained 3 main buildings; 2 Dojo and the storage house surrounding the central courtyard that was more of a garden than anything else. Behind the largest of the Dojo which faced the main gate, was the Busujima family homestead. The central courtyard was simply beautiful, a tranquil garden of peace. A small wooden bridge spanned a small pond filled with lilies, a few German coys swimming in the bottom. The grass lawns were neatly trimmed and gravel paths immaculately kept. On the grass lawns, people dressed in full kendo training armour were sparring, snapping at each other with shinai. Other people were doing laundry nearby and others meditated and around went around their daily business.

"Wow," was all Chris could say. The place was incredible; it was exactly as he remembered it before the fall. You wouldn't know the world had gone to shit.

"Yeah, not bad, is it?" said Yamato proudly. "We've done our best to keep the place as master Busujima did, but we converted the rear gardens for growing food in."

"The master isn't here?" asked Chris surprised.

"No," said Yamato. "The master was overseas when all this started."

"Saeko?" Chris asked. Yamato shook his head sadly. Chris was disheartened, he had hoped against hope that the master and Saeko would be there… especially Saeko. He pushed his minds to other thoughts.

"How many people are living here?"

"36," said Yamato. "Soon to be 37 when Erika gives birth. Mainly old students and their families. We're growing some food out back by the main dojo, the walls keep them out. We go out and scavenge what we can, but…"

"But you're struggling," Surmised Chris. "Anti-biotics, clothes, staple foodstuffs… you're finding it hard to get what you need. You're barely getting by."

"Yeah…" admitted Yamato. "How did you know?"

"Happened all the time during the UK reclamation campaigns," Said Chris. "And with this herd coming in it's just going to get harder. We need to go. My Royal Marines are about 2 miles away and they will take you in and…"

"It's not that simple Chris," Yamato cut in. "If it were up to me I would, but it's not."

"Then who is it up to?" asked Chris.

"A council of elders," said Yamato. "Some of the older students and a few of the family reps who run things around here."

"I want to talk to them," Chris said resolutely, he faced Yamato and looked him in the eye. "It's the best chance your people have got of surviving long term." Yamato sighed and shook his head.

"I doubt they'll see it that way," he said, "But they wanted to talk to you as soon as you were awake anyway."

"So why didn't you take me to them?" asked Chris. Yamato patted him on the shoulder.

"I wanted to catch up with my best friend first," he said. "Come on. Let's go see the council."

Yamato led him across the veranda and over towards the main dojo and into its main room. The dojo was large and its floor was carpeted in finely made tatami mats and had a raised wooden dais at the far end with a shrine upon it and a set of cushions for the sensei to sit upon and spectate. Seated upon the dais presently, however, were two men and a woman. They tracked Chris and Yamato as they entered the room and knelt before them. Chris bowed low to them; he got the feeling he was going to need to get on their good side if this was going to work.

"This it him?" asked the man in the middle in Japanese. He was old, pudgy for a man living in the post-apocalypse, had a thicket of grey/black stubble and a pair of swords tucked into his kimono's obi. Chris didn't recognise him as one of Master Busujima's students.

"Hai," replied Yamato. The 3 elders looked Chris over.

"He doesn't look like a soldier…" said the woman.

"That is because I am not one Giin-Sama," said Chris in perfect Japanese. "I am a member of the British Royal Marine Commandos, which in turn is a branch of the Royal Navy. A soldier would be a member of the army." The three elders looked surprised.

"You speak Japanese?" said the middleman cautiously.

"Quite fluently Giin-san," replied Chris. "I trained as a member of the Busujima School for several years before the fall, and was good friends with the master's daughter, Saeko Busujima."

"Do you have proof of this?" asked the man on the right of the central man.

"If you go into her room, you should find a framed picture on her desk of Busujima-Sensei, Busujima-Chan, Yamato-Kun and I from when we won the national kendo tournament 9 years ago," replied Chris.

"I can vouch for him Giin-San," said Yamato. The three elders conversed among themselves for a moment, debating whether or not to believe him.

"If you are who you say you are," said the middle man. "Where are your uniform and weapons?"

"My rifle is at the bottom of the river," said Chris. "I had to ditch it mid-swim or I would have drowned. As for my uniform, webbing and sidearm… Yamato?"

"His uniform and equipment are being washed and dried," supplied Yamato. "His pistol has been stored in the armoury for safekeeping." The council looked slightly appeased.

"Well then Marine," said the middleman. "Why did you come to us?"

Chris told them everything, the UN campaign mission, the landings, and finally his marine company's mission to stop the herd bearing down on them. The councillors listened before discussing among themselves. Chris passed Yamato a sidewise glance as if to ask 'Do you think they bought it?' Yamato's face held no answers. Eventually, the council ceased deliberating and the middleman spoke.

"That is a certainly quite a tale, young man," he said. "Almost too tall…"

"It's the truth," affirmed Chris. "There is a marine company about 2 miles from here getting ready to kill a herd of infected at the bridge! We need to leave or they might come here!"

"If that's true," said the woman, "Why did you come alone? Surely you would have brought other marines rather than come alone?" Chris bowed his head, ashamed.

"I deserted my post to come here," he said. "I was part of the forward team sent to get the battle site ready. I slipped away when we got there to come here. As far as my unit is concerned, I'm AWOL."

"Why did you do that?" asked the man on the right. "Surely your commander would allow you to lead a squad to come here if you are here to rescue civilians as you say you are?"

"My Captain wouldn't have let me take a section out," answered Chris. "With the herd coming in, he was focused on dealing with that and couldn't spare the men. After the herd came would be too late, they might have come and destroyed this place. They still might, which is why we need to leave _now."_

"We still do not know if you're telling the truth!" shouted the right-hand man. "All you've bought us is tall tales and words! For all you know you could have scavenged that uniform and be a good liar! Or you could be from another group who want to take what is ours!"

"I believe him," said Yamato, coming unexpectedly to Chris aid. "I trust this man. And I mean look at him! Does he look underfed?! Does he look like he's been living in the wilderness or fighting to survive for 8 years?! Young-san risks his life to come here and warn us that a herd is coming and to help us and you will refuse him?! We're barely growing enough food to survive as it is!"

"You forget yourself Yamato-kun!" shouted the man on the right. He was about to continue laying into him when the middleman held up his hand to silence him.

"You are quite correct, Yamato-kun," he said, "but so is Hayashida-san. I will not risk the entire camp on Young-san's story, but I think it merits investigating. Yamato, you will take 5 volunteer fighters and investigate Young-san's claims. If they are true, bring these marines to us. If not, kill him."

"Thank you, Giin-san," said Yamato, bowing to the councilman before turning to Chris. "Shall we?"

"Please after you," said Chris, "Age before beauty, old friend."

Chris and Yamato laughed before getting up and heading off to gather their things.

…

About a quarter of an hour after they'd left the meeting, Chris was just finishing lacing up his boots. He'd changed back into his combats; they were still slightly damp, but certainly usable. He looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. Yamato approached with 5 others following, all dressed in full sets of dark blue Kendo sparring armour, their helmets held under their arms and swords secured in obi around their waists.

"5 volunteers, ready and waiting," said Yamato. Chris nodded.

"You know what we're walking into?" he asked them. They all nodded.

"Following Yamato and some random gaijin into a horde of zombies," said one of them, she shrugged. "Normal Thursday really." They all chuckled.

"Fair enough," he said. Yamato stepped forward and held up a long bag to Chris.

"These belonged to the master," he said. "He would've wanted you to have them."

Chris looked at him confused but accepted the bag. He loosened its top and drew it down, inside was a pair of swords, a katana and a wakizashi. He set the bag down with the wakizashi on top of it and examined the katana. It was a long blade with only a slight curve, housed in a blood crimson lacquer saya with a black silk seago and black end fittings. The tsuba was golden in the rough shape of a Chrysanthemum, and the wrappings were black shark skin with golden menuki. Chris pulled the shining blade free from its saya and examined it, his eyes went wide as he recognised the makers mark just above the tsuba.

"Ôno Yoshimitsu," he breathed. "This is a Yoshimitsu forged sword." Yamato nodded.

"The wakizashi is its twin. The master had them commissioned for Saeko," He said. "In her absence… he'd want you to have them," Chris understood. He sheathed the Katana and tied it and the wakizashi to the left side of his webbing with the seago. After he briefly checked his gear, he was satisfied that he was ready. He looked at Yamato and his volunteers.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go kill some zeds."

…

 **Herd Ambush sight  
D-Day+12  
12:30**

'Breath… aim… fire.'

 _Kapow!_

'Breath… aim… fire.'

 _Kapow!_

'Breath… aim… fire.'

 _Kapow!_

 _Clack!_

Griffin pressed the magazine release on his L85, and another spent magazine fell to the ground where it joined 6 of its brethren. He plucked a fully stocked replacement from his webbing and inserted it into the rifle before he released the working parts forward and carried on firing.

So far, things had been going well. The herd had arrived roughly when expected and was slowly crossing the bridge, into the waiting guns of the Royal Marines. Griffin has placed 2nd and 3rd platoons in the buildings, the height advantage giving them clear lines of sight on the rear of the herd so they could thin them out at longer range, while 1st platoon with Captain Griffin was down at street level, behind the barricades and firing straight at them as they came.

They'd been at it for about half an hour and had probably killed a good couple hundred, maybe more. Almost to the point, a small mound of infected corpses was beginning to pile up on the bridge, meaning they had to stumble over their dead brethren, making them more vulnerable to the marines' accurate fire.

Still, though, there seemed to be more of them than the briefing had suggested, and the ammo resupply they had been promised by command hadn't arrived yet. Griffin just hoped that they would have enough to last.

…

" _Oh! 67 fucking undead on the road!  
67 fucking undead!  
Pick one out! Blow its brains out!  
68 fucking undead on the road!"_

Barry cycled the bolt on his Enfield before picking out a new target.

"Oh! 68 fucking undead on the road!  
68 fucking undead!  
Pick one out, blow its brains… da fuck?"

He was about to take the shot on another infected corpse when it collapsed, its head severed at the neck and rolling away as a group of blue armoured figures with swords moved past it towards the Marine's position. Barry moved his rifle scope for a better look. He couldn't quite believe his eyes, 6 blue armoured figures with samurai swords were swinging and slashing their way through the horde towards the marines, and they were being led by…

"Well… son of a bitch…" Barry muttered to himself. He set his PRR to the company channel so everyone would hear him.

"All callsigns! This is Sierra-Two-Charlie! Cease fire! Cease fire! Friendlies on the bridge! I have eyes on 7 samurai fighting their way through the undead on the bridge towards our position! Over!"

The sounds of gunfire started to die and Barry's PRR crackled. It was Captain Griffin

" _Sierra-Two-Charlie, this is Charlie-Golf. Come again private? Did you say, Samurai? Over."_

"Charlie-Golf, this is Sierra-Two-Charlie. Yes, I did sir. And you're never gonna guess who's leading them…"

…

"Well, fuck," said One of Yamato's volunteers. "That is a lot of Kabane."

"No kidding," said Chris. The small team was crouched in a side street, looking at the massive herd of undead between them and the marines.

"Shouldn't you try contacting your marines?" asked Yamato. "You know, to get them to stop shooting?"

"Can't," replied Chris. "My radio was destroyed when I swam across the river. There are snipers on the roofs, though, they'll spot us eventually and get them to cease fire."

"Eventually?!" exclaimed one of the volunteers. Chris shrugged.

"Hey, I didn't say it was a perfect plan. You still in?"

"Sure, why not?" said one of them, a blond haired beauty called Kura. "Might as well become a reikon in a blaze of glory!"

"A bottle of sake says I can get more of them than you can," dared Yamato. Chris smirked at his friend.

"Getting a little cocky aren't we?"

"I've gotten better since we last sparred," replied Yamato with a grin.

"Well then…" said Chris, he drew his katana from its saya and raised it above his head. Its blade was sharp, its weight reassuring and its balance perfect. He could do anything .The volunteers donned their helmets and drew their swords as well.

"Samurai of Busujima!" shouted Chris. A few nearby undead heard him and turned towards him.

"With me now! NOW WITH ME!"

Chris charged forwards, he heard a roaring kiai behind him from the samurai.

Chris side stepped the first few infected, darting around them with relative ease. Despite Yamato's bet Chris had no intention of being slowed down by the need to kill. He brought his katana to a low Waki-gamae hold, affording him speed while able to keep the blade ready for use. One infected was in his path. Without breaking stride, Chris raised his katana to shoulder height and slashed across at the undead's neck. The master forged blade cut through its rotting spinal column with barely any resistance, and the creatures head fell away as its body crumpled below it.

But Chris didn't let up; another infected was in front of him. He simply reversed the blade and struck slashed back across. Before darting to the right as it fell and continuing his charge. The gunfire had stopped now. While most of the undead continued towards the marines, a few were starting to turn to the kiai's of the samurai and their dropping of bodies.

"Don't let up!" Chris shouted as he glanced back over his shoulder. "Push forward!"

"Chris! Behind you!" shouted Yamato as he pulled his own katana free on an infected he had just cloven in two at the waist. Chris turned back forward to be greeted by an incoming undead lunging at him. Chris's taijutsu training kicked in and he dropped to a knee on its left, bringing his katana down on its left leg. The leg separated as the glimmering blade parted decaying flesh and brittle bone. With the sudden loss of balance, the infected toppled over. It had scarcely hit the ground and Chris was back on his feet, turning to stand over it. He twirled his Katana up and over its head and brought the blade's pointed tip down and into the infected's brain pan.

He paused for a moment over his victim, glancing over his shoulder; three more were coming for him, one just behind the other two. They'd be in sword range any moment. He grasped the hilt of his katana with his right hand his wakizashi with his left and wrenched them free of their binds and slashed across the necks of the first two with his long blade, decapitating them. As they fell, the 3rd one came barrelling forwards. There was no way Chris could get his weapon back across in time to kill it, but he was ready for it. He lunged forward, thrusting his wakizashi forward in a reverse grip into the infected's forehead. The undead toppled backwards and Chris brought his sword's point down onto the infected on the way down to be doubly sure.

With the undead pinned to the ground dead with his swords, he pulled them both free and dropped into a fighting stance with his katana held high in his right hand and his wakizashi in his left across his chest to protect himself.

With a roar of an illegible war cry, he charged back into the fray. His heart was pounding and his blood was flowing, he had never felt more alive! His two swords were extensions of his arms, slashing and slicing in twirling, glittering arcs highlighted by blood. For Chris, it was all a blur; a sensational orgy of violence, blood and death. He felt powerful. He felt unstoppable.

Chris sliced through the neck of another infected and held his blades ready to dispatch the next undead… only to find himself face to face with Captain Griffin, and a line of stunned marines with mouths aghast, staring at the cadet who was soaked in infected blood and guts from head to toe. Chris stared at the officer for a moment, before turning around and bringing his katana down across the face of an infected that got too close.

"Marines!" Chris shouted as he twirled the blood off his swords and returned them to their saya's before drawing his Sig and clicking the safety off. He waited a moment for the last of his samurai to cross the behind him and the marine's line to safety. "Open fire!"

He snapped off a shot into the head of a nearby infected like an executioner before switching to a second target, then a third. The Marines opened fire again, the crack of their L85's filled the sky again as the brits pressed their attack.

…

Within 2 hours, the herd had been eradicated to the last.

Battlefield sterilisation was underway and the marines were preparing to tab back to base. Their mastiffs had been diverted to evacuate the survivors from the Busujima School. As the collapse down was underway, and after a colossal bollocking from Captain Griffin, Chris went off in search of Barry, the sniper he'd last seen before he'd gone AWOL.

He found him on the same rooftop he'd left him on. His rifle propped up in the corner and a cigarette in his mouth. He spotted Chris coming and smirked at him.

"So that's what you're good for then," He said with a wryly grin as he nodded towards the mass of corpses on the bridge. "Killing zeddies with a sword?"

"To each, their own private," said Chris as he rested his left hand on the hilt of his katana. "You've got your rifle; I've got my blades."

"Fair enough," said Barry. He took a deep inhale on his cigarette and breathed out a cloud of smoke.

"You know," he said, "I heard some of the lad's talkin'. They were mighty surprised at that shit you pulled. Heard they're calling you 'The Young Samurai' now."

Chris laughed. "Well, I've had worse nicknames," he said. He composed himself for a moment. "I heard you were the one who spotted me and my friends and got the company to cease fire."

"Aye," said Barry. "That were me."

"Thank you," said Chris. "It could've all gone pear shaped if you hadn't." Chris held out a hand for Barry. Barry looked at it and threw away his cigarette before clasping Chris's hand with his own and shaking it.

"Think nothing of it lad," he said. Chris nodded and moved to separate, but Barry tightened his grip.

"Just be careful laddie," he said sternly. "You looked like you were enjoying yourself just a little too much doin' that."

"Thank you. I will," said Chris. He separated from Barry and headed back below.

It was time to go and it was a long march home.

* * *

Gi: Martial arts training uniform  
Seago: Wrappings on a Katana/ Wakizashi's saya  
Saya: A katana/ Wakizashi's scabbard. (Also a fairly fiery tempered, pink haired know it all)  
Tsuba: Katana/ Wakizashi's hand guard.  
Kabane: Corpse  
Reikon: Spirit

Ôno Yoshimitsu: Master Japanese Swordsmith. Began making swords in 1975. His blades are rated as Makanusa, meaning "Without Judgement". Due to their exceptional quality they are displayed at the annual contemporary sword smith exhibition without examination of a panel of judges; no further awards will be granted, since the swords are above competition.

I think we can agree that Master Busujima would have such swords forged for his daughter.

 **Well, the good news is that you get a chapter of Archangel sooner than I expected. And personally, I think this is one of the best story chapter's I've written. (And yes I channelled Jon Snow at one point. Get over it.)**

 **The bad news is I'm bone tired and I've got 2, 2500 word essay's breathing down my neck. Time to call in a Chinese takeaway and pull an all-nighter, thank god though I've got all day tomorrow to work too...**

 **Right, don't expect to see Chapter 6 before the beginning of December. I've got essays and stuff between now and then.  
**

 **Thanks as ever to Draco38 for beta reading and assisting with this chapter  
**

 **Please drop a review, constructive critisizm is welcome. Feel free to PM me if you so wish. And as all ways favourite/ follow if you so feel.**

 **That is all from me. See ya next time.**

 **Jango**


	7. Chapter 6

**Operation: Archangel**

 **Chapter 6**

 **Camp Wellington  
Z-day + 2960  
D-Day+26  
11:30**

Tigger marched into the HQ building and looked about as out of place as a pig among guinea pigs.

Unlike all the smart, clean, pressed, standard issue MTP uniforms that were being worn by the troops in the HQ building, Tigger was dressed in worn, dirty, mud-stained Japanese type three flektarn that was issued to all special forces and recon teams. This was partly because the powers-that-be wanted the units more likely to encounter survivors first to have Jap uniforms, to make it look like they were leading the reclamation operations. But it was also because the teams issued it may need to hide if the survivors they encountered were hostile.

He walked straight past the line of people waiting to be served by the sergeant (earning him a few disdainful glares) at the reception desk and said;

"Captain Fletcher to see Major Tom." He said to the desk clerk. The sergeant either didn't clock the captain's rank (partly because he wasn't wearing any indication of rank) or was having a very bad day because he looked at Tigger with a disdainful look and said.

"There is a line sir."

"Sarnt, what regiment is Major Tom with?" asked Tigger, not use to being told to go and wait by anyone, let alone a jumped up secretary.

"22 Regiment SAS…," said the Sergeant, and it suddenly dawned on him that he may have just told an SAS officer to go sit down and wait his turn. "I'll go tell him you're here Captain Fletcher." He added quickly.

"You do that." Said Tigger with a nod as the Sergeant headed towards the door to the offices with what Tigger supposed was dignified haste. Tigger glanced back at the line of soldiers waiting to be served. Funny how suddenly they found everything else around them fascinating, and not one of them was looking at the SAS operator in front of them.

The sergeant came back and held the door open for Tigger.

"The Major will see you now sir."

"Thank you Sarnt." Said Tigger with a smile as he passed him and headed for the Major's office. He found the door open slightly and knocked and waited a moment until the major called "Come," before entering.

"Ah, Antony." Greeted Major Tom. "Have a seat. Drink?"

"Please, sir." Replied Tigger. Major Tom got up and retrieved 2 glasses and a glass decanter from the shelf on the wall and poured about an inch of amber liquid into the bottom of each glass before handing one to Tigger. Tigger knew what was coming, he braced himself and took a sip of his drink. The Major smiled as Tigger choked on his drink.

"Glenfiddich, Single malt 18 years. Smooth as silk." Said Major Tom as he took a sip of his own drink.

"If you say so sir." Said Tigger. "Was always more of a Budweiser man myself."

"Yes well," said the Major, "they don't teach appreciation for the finer things at the Sandhurst country club, anymore do they?"

"No sir, these days they tend to focus more on the killing aspect of war." Said Tigger.

"Is that so? Well, you may have quite a bit to do with this next assignment I have for you." Said Major Tom. He produced a brown paper envelope from his desk and slid it across to Tigger. Tigger opened it and pulled out an aerial recon photo of a large walled compound.

"Close target recce of a newly discovered survivor colony." Said Major Tom. "Drone took that this morning. It's a small farm on the north side of Mount Fuji. Lot's of forest in the area so ghillie suits would be a good call."

"Hostile?" asked Tigger as he studied the topography from the photos.

"Possibly." Said Major Tom. He pulled another photo from the envelope, this one was zoomed in and enhanced. "What's got the head cases worried are these." Tigger took the photo and looked closely. Parked in the farm's central area, was a trio of dark green Humvees.

"We think they got them from the East Fuji Manoeuvre area." Said Major Tom. "If they've got them and they're operational… and even if they're not...Who knows what else they've gotten a hold of."

Tigger agreed. He'd seen first hand what a survivor group with military hardware could do. And unlike in the movies, the survivors who'd been using them had years by this point to get proficient with them, and could more than hurt anyone who came across them.

"You have 2 days to get your team prepped and deployed." Said Major Tom. "Study the maps, prep your team and get out there. Plan on being in the field for at least 3 maybe 4 days. Dismissed."

…

 **3 clicks west of Yokosuka Naval base  
Z-day + 2960  
D-Day+26  
12:30**

"How many did we lose?" asked Captain Griffin.

"4 dead, 7 wounded Sir." Replied Young. "2 Critical. They're back on the QM2.".

"Damn it."

Earlier that morning, Captain Griffin's company was advancing on foot towards an objective approximately 5 kilometres west of the Yokosuka Naval base. While crossing a bridge over the river Tamar river, they came under heavy machine gun, sniper and RPG fire. The marines had taken cover where they could, behind some wrecked cars, only to find that they either had trapped zeds in them, or with IED's planted. Bad weather had grounded any air support, forcing the lightly equipped marines to retreat. They'd established a forward HQ in an office block about 500 meters from the river. The upper floors were still within line of sight of the bridge but out of range of their RPG's and heavy weapons. The marines were using the time to tend to any injuries, restock their mags, down some scoff and get ready for another go of it while the officers called for reinforcements.

"Any chance of gunship support?" asked Griffin.

"No sir." Said Young. "Bad weather's still grounding everything."

"Could we ford the river?"

"Possible, but I wouldn't," said Young. "It's moving fast and they'll have it covered."

"Says the man who swam Tokonosu river at night." Grinned Griffin.

"Yeah, and I nearly caught hypothermia doing it boss." Replied Young with a smirk. "Besides, I also wasn't being shot at when I did it."

"True." Said Griffin. He paused for a moment. "How are those people you saved?"

"Last I heard from Yamato he and the other survivors were settling in after being cleared from the hospital." Said Young. "There was a bit of bother about civvies carrying swords around with them, but it got ironed out. They're focusing on rehab and putting some weight back on for now before looking to find a place for themselves long term."

"Well, I doubt they'll be idle for long." Said Griffin. "I doubt command will let a bunch of sword totting battle-hardened samurai sit around for long."

"True that." Said Young. "Now if you'll excuse me, sir, I'm gonna grab some scoff while there still is any. Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you, cadet." Said Griffin. "Enjoy your scoff. Dismissed."

Young gave a smart not in place of a salute and left Griffin in the office alone. Griffin was surprised at how much Young had changed since he'd gotten his swords and saved those people from his old school. He was a new man and a new marine. He was no longer the timid, quiet apprentice. Now, he was a sword carrying, zombie killing, tough as nails royal marine. The men had gained a sudden new respect for him and a few had even come to fear him after they'd seen him slice his way through that herd of undead with that shit ass grin on his face.

"Still," mused Griffin. "The best officers are sometimes feared, as well as respected."

With nothing else to do, Griffin picked up his L85 and started breaking it down for fieldstripping and cleaning. It was a ritual he'd had drilled into him at basic while at Sandhurst; after a firefight, when the men are safe and tended to, the first thing you do is strip and clean your weapon… then your teeth. He carefully cleared and broke down the rifle, setting each component down in order and carefully scrubbed and oiled each component. Griffin got a sense of calmness whenever he was cleaning his weapon. A sense of calmness, just man and machine, flesh and metal, shooter and gun. It was a feeling that had kept him sane through the worst of the reclamation ops he'd been part of; The reclaiming of London, The siege of Dublin, the battle of Cyprus… goddamn Cyprus… But wherever he'd been, his rifle had never jammed, and never failed him. He and it had an understanding; "You take care of me, I'll take care of you."

It was that simple.

With his rifle, suitably free of carbon and cleaned of grime from the day's fighting, he reassembled it and performed the functions test. He smiled when he felt the smoothness of the action and heard the satisfying _click_ as the safety sears engaged. He set it down as OC Young ran back into the room.

"Sir." He said, "Reinforcements are here."

"Excellent." Said Griffin as he came to his feet. "With a couple of warriors backing us up, we should…"

"They didn't send Warriors sir." Interrupted Chris with a slight grin on his face. Griffin looked as if he were somewhere between annoyance and confusion.

"Then what did they send us?" He asked.

"Me and mine Captain." Said a voice. A lieutenant stepped into the room. He was shortish, about 5'5, had a head of ginger hair and a pair of half-rim glasses over his blue eyes with a light dusting of freckles over his pale skin. He looked as if he had barely turned twenty. He wore a pair of MTP fatigues that had grease stains on them with a lightly equipped battle belt over his waist and a stockless pump action combat shotgun hanging off his right shoulder.

"Lieutenant Roberts." He said introducing himself with a salute. "Ajax squadron, Royal Tank Regiment."

"RTR?" said Griffin. When he'd asked for armoured reinforcements, he'd expected a company of warriors, not a platoon of Challenger main battle tanks. "Well I wasn't expecting you, but I won't turn you away. You been briefed on the situation?"

"Something about some dick'eds with RPG's and HMG's covering an IED covered bridge?" replied Roberts.

"That about sums it up." Said Griffin. He and Young spent the next few minutes talking over the situation with Roberts who listened intently.

"What's your strength lieutenant?" asked Griffin.

"4 Refit Chally 2 L6's and a Trojan mine clearer." Said Roberts. "I left the bridge layer and recovery vehicles little ways back, but they can be here in 15 mikes if we need'em. If it's all the same to you cap, I'd like my tanks to go first and clear a path with our dozer blades and keep the bastards pinned down with the coax's, but if it gets too heavy, am I ok to put a few HE rounds into those buildings?"

"By all means go first and put all the HE you want into them." Said Griffin. "If it weren't for the bad weather I'd have already called in the Apache's and levelled them anyways. How soon can you be ready to go? And how long can you stay with us?"

"We can be ready to go now if you want." Said Roberts. "As for staying with you," he paused and shrugged. "We were just sitting with our dicks in our hands back at base. We can stay with you as long as you need us."

"Alright then." Said Griffin. "Give my boys 10 mikes to get packed and ready then let's do this."

"Cool." Said Roberts. He saluted and turned to leave. "Fear naught marine."

"Per Mare, Per Terram, tanker." Shot Young back, as he and Griffin headed off to ready their marines.

…

"Roberts exited the command building and walked down the street back from the bridge. Parked down the road, so they were out of sight of the hostile buildings, were the 4 Challenger 2 L6 Main Battle tanks of AJAX squadron.

The Challenger 2 L6 was a half-breed upgrade of the original Challenger 2 main battle tank. Before the fall, after years of fighting insurgents in Afghanistan, Britain's Challenger fleet was getting old, and in dire need of an upgrade. When the fall came, they proved their worth once again against the undead, as they could not be stopped by the undead and could push through to objectives deep in infected held territory. However, the obsolescent issues did not go away, but the Challenger's, having proved their worth, got a new lease of life.

After the reclamation of Britain, and an operation in Germany to help liberate the port of Hamburg, the British recovered a healthy number of Leopard 2A6 and A7 main battle tanks of the German army. The brits asked if they could have them and the Germans were only too grateful to hand them over as thanks for securing their city, especially as they did not have the expertise to use them. With the tanks gratefully received, the British engineers went to work on combining the two tanks to upgrade the Challenger.

The new Challenger 2 L6 (L6 being a nod to the Leopard 2A6's that had been cannibalised for parts) was one mean mother of a tank. Externally it looked little different from a standard challenger 2, apart from an extended turret ammunition rack at the rear of the turret. The upgrades, however, were extensive on the inside. For starters, the turret interior had been totally redesigned to accommodate better gun handling for the new gun. The Challenger 2's rifled 120mm L30A1 CHARM 3 gun, had been replaced by the Leopard 2A6's Rheinmetall smoothbore 120mm L/55 gun. The main reason for this was simple, ammo. The Challenger 2's old L30 gun, while marginally more accurate than the Leopards, used single piece ammunition and was crucially used all over the world, meaning that if the Challenger were to be deployed overseas, it could more than likely use ammunition scavenged form the country of operations, rather than having to rely on the lengthy supply lines to use the standard 2-piece ammo of the old L30 gun.

Aside from the new gun and turret, the Challenger 2 L6 also featured improved electronics, a remote weapons station on the turret, improved targeting system for the gunner and commander, a bulldozer blade on the front which was ideal for clearing debris or infected, deep water wading capability, improved night and thermal sensors, a new pleather of ammunition and finally, and arguably most importantly for a British crew, an improved boiling vessel for making brews in the field.

In terms of armour, the challenger retained its legendary toughness. Each tank in AJAX squadron was covered 2nd generation CHOBHAM (or Dorchester) armour. Although the tanks caged armour had been removed, crews had learnt the hard way that infected could grab on and climb aboard more easily with it on than off.

Roberts walked towards his tank, the lead tank in the formation, named _Rosehip_ for one of Roberts' favourite anime characters. He clambered up the tank, to where his gunner and loader were relaxing on top of the turret.

"What's the word boss?" asked Will, Roberts' long-standing loader.

"Mount up." Said Roberts. He waved to his other tank crews and shouted: "Mount up!"

"Brew was getting cold anyway." Muttered Roberts' gunner Meg, throwing her lukewarm brew over the side of the tank and onto an unfortunate marine nearby before dropping into the turret.

Roberts dropped in after her, taking the commander's station but leaving the hatch open. He stowed his shotgun on its rack close to hand and slipped on his headset and switched the radio to the A set so he could talk to the Squadron.

"AJAX Squadron radio check." He said into the radio.

" _Hellfire up._ "

" _Doris the vampire slayer up."_

" _Excalibur up."_

"Alright lads and ladies, listen up." Said Roberts, "Our orders are to push forwards and clear a path along the bridge so the marines can advance behind us and storm those buildings full of grad one A-holes over there. We're cleared on coax but only fire main guns if I do, have an HE up the spout just in case. We've got IED's in the cars so go carefully. Sadly it's 'don't fire until fire upon', and these A-holes have RPG's, fifty cals, snipers, maybe ATGM's. Keep buttoned up and heads down. Order of march; Rosehip, Excalibur, Doris, Hellfire. Copy?"

" _Hellfire copy._ "

" _Doris the zombie slayer copy."_

" _Excalibur copy."_

"Alright, let's make these fuckers regret the day they decided to screw with our navy cousins. Prepare to move. Rosehip out."

Roberts switched the radio to the tank intercom. "Right you all hear that?"

His answer was will shoving a large HE round into the breach of the Challenger's gun.

"HE up boss." Said Will with a smile before turning to the turret wall to tend to another crucial task.

"Main gun, Coax and RWS are up and online." Said Meg with her face pressed to her gunner's sight. There was an annoying silence from the driver's compartment.

"Hugh, you up?" Asked Roberts. More silence, he adjusted his headset and, sure enough, he could hear the sound of soft snoring coming from the driver's position. Apparently, Meg and Will heard it too and knowing full well what came next removed their headsets. Roberts' did marginally enjoy this.

"DETAIL!DETAIL-SHUN!" He shouted into the intercom as loud as he could. And sure enough from the driver's compartment, the dull thud and moan of Hugh's head hitting the driver's periscope.

"Nice of you to join us Hugh." Said Roberts', "Fire her up when you're ready."

"Sir…" moaned Hugh as he recovered from his wake-up call. He punched a button on his control panel and the challenger's 1,200 horsepower deasil engine roared into life. Behind them, the other tanks of AJAX squadron turned their engines over with thunderous roars. Roberts' switched over to the B set and contacted Captain Griffin.

"Zero Alpha, Zero Alpha, this is Ajax lead." He said, "Me and mine are ready on you. Over."

" _Understood Ajax lead."_ Replied Griffin. _"My marines are ready to move. We're gonna let you go first and stay close behind you and use your tanks as cover."_

"Understood." Said Roberts. "Recommend your boys don't get too close and keep their ear defence on, don't want to deafen them if we fire the main guns."

" _Understood. We're ready when you are. Out."_

"Crew, report status!" ordered Roberts as he switched to the intercom and his crew shouted back.

"Operator! Ready!"

"Gunner! Ready!"

"Driver! Ready!"

"Ahead slow driver. Advance!"

Hugh disengaged the tank's break and pressed the throttle. The 72-tonne tank's engine roared and _Rosehip_ started moving forward at walking pace. Behind it, the other tanks followed, with marine's using the tanks as cover. Inside his cupola, Roberts watched through his vision blocks as the bridge came closer, and made an inward prayer to god that their armour would hold and that the bridge could withstand the weight of 4 Challengers rolling and firing across it.

Almost as soon as the tanks emerged from the cover of the buildings and onto the bridge, the hostiles opened fire. The windows flickered like fireflies as the gunners peppered the tanks with automatic weapons fire. Roberts' didn't even flinch when the rounds started to clang and ping of his armour, _Rosehip_ was armoured all over with nigh-impenetrable Dorchester armour, RPG's would barely scratch the paint, let alone MG rounds. It was only if they had ATGM's that Roberts would begin to worry.

"Gunner, target. 2 O'clock, 2nd floor, range 200, 3rd window from the right. Give'em the coax."

"Boss." Said Meg. She traversed the turret slightly with a whine of electric motors and elevated the main gun, before depressing the trigger of the L94A1 chain gun that was coaxially mounted to the main gun. The coax spat streams of 7.62mm rounds towards the buildings, each 5th round being a tracer giving a near constant stream of yellow tracer to allow Meg to adjust her aim. The gunner in the window was torn apart by the streams of gunfire before collapsing to the ground. One target down, dozen's more to go.

Roberts' eyes widened slightly as he saw someone on the roof of the right building raise something onto his shoulder and point it at them.

"Contact right! RPG!" He shouted.

Before Meg could bring the coax to bare, the hostile fired. The Panzerfaust 3, launched its tandem charge warhead, designed specifically to penetrate explosive reactive armour. The shaped charged warhead, crossed the distance in a moment on a trail of rocket vapour with a _WHOOSH,_ and impacted the front Rosehip's turret, just to the left of the main gun.

Rosehip shook under the impact and a _clang!_ resonated through the tank. The man who'd launched the rocket smiled at his success, but When the smoke and dust of impact cleared, the only damage was an ugly black scorch mark on turret's paint, and his smile vanished, as the tank's gun rotated towards him, and cut him in half with a return burst from the coax.

The other tanks were faring just as well, advancing undamaged through the hail of hostile fire with only damage to their paint jobs. One Challenger, _Excalibur_ , rolled over a rusted car on the bridge, crushing it with its left track and bulk, before inadvertently setting of the IED concealed inside and stopped. For a moment, the defender's thought they'd disabled the tank, but _Excalibur started_ moving forward again and pulled itself free of the car's wreckage. As the tank's got closer, more RPG's started being fired at the tanks as the defenders got more desperate to stop them.

"Alright, these dumb bastards aren't taking the hint." Said Roberts as Rosehip shuddered after a third RPG hit shook the tank. "Target, 10 O'clock, 3rd floor. Fire main gun."

"Brace." Replied Meg. She traversed the turret around to target and punched the fire button. _Rosehip_ shook, and the fighting compartment filled with the thick cinnamon like smell of cordite as the main gun fired and the breech deposited the spent shell casing on the floor of the turret basket with a _clang!_ The 120mm High explosive round shot out the end of the barrel and closed the distance to target in no time, flying through an open window before exploding inside. The entire floor exploded and smoke, dust and fire shot out of every window on that floor. For a moment, the gunfire stopped, giving Will time aplenty to load the next round and Meg time to bring the turret around to another target. Roberts switched the radio to the PA, another upgrade the challenger had received.

"This is the British army! Here on behalf of the Japanese government and United Nations! Lay down your weapons and surrender, or we will bring down those buildings with you inside them!"

There was nothing for a full minute from the far side, before someone appeared out of a third-floor window, waving a dirty white sheet.

Next to Roberts' head, a light on the radio set started to flash green on the B-set. He switched it over, it was captain Griffin.

"Roberts, my marines and I are going to move in and secure those buildings. Be ready to give fire support should we need it. Over."

"Rog' Captain. Out." Replied Roberts before hanging up and switching back to the intercom. "Be ready to give fire support, Coax and RWS only. And Will? Get a brew on. We could be here a while."

…

After an hour of securing prisoners, weapons and tending to the wounded and dead, Griffin headed out towards where the Challenger's had parked themselves in defensive positions. He found Robert's crouched over his commander's hatch listening to his headset. He saw Griffin coming and quickly finished his conversation before dropping his headset back into the tank and jumping down to meet the Marine Captian.

"Fuckin rear echelon mother…" he muttered as Griffin approached.

"Problem?" asked Griffin.

"Aye." Said Roberts. "Just finished getting an earful of command. Apparently, the Jap government is real fucked off about me firing high-ex at, quote; 'lightly armed civvies'. I've been ordered back to base with the platoon, to be put back in reserve while I personally get a massive bollocking for my actions."

"Well," said Griffin. "If you need someone to vouch for you, just give me a shout. Without your tanks, I think that this would have turned into a long drawn out siege with a much higher casualty count."

"Appreciate that sir." Nodded Roberts. He and Griffin shook hands before Roberts mounted back up and departed with his platoon.

* * *

 **Well, here we are, chapter 6.**

 **for the readers who have also seen the girls und panzer movie, yes Rosehip is a reference to the Crusader commander from St. Gloriana. Sue me! Actually please don't... I'm a student, so I have no money anyways.**

 **To put it into perspective on how long this has taken to write, I started this about a week before I posted Chapter 5. Blame uni assignments. I was going to make it even longer, but I thought you'd appreciate something sooner rather than later.**

 **I'll get started on chapter 7 tomorrow.**

 **As ever, please do review/favourite and follow. PM me if you have any burning questions.**

 **jango**


	8. Chapter 7

**Operation: Archangel**

 **Chapter 7**

 **North side of Mount Fuji  
Z-day + 2961  
D-Day+27  
00:30**

In the dark night, the sound of the SAS's specially adapted Land Rover WMIK was hardly subtle. Tigger, who was crammed into the back beneath the .50 Cal gunner, was fully expecting the convoy of 2 patrol vehicles to come under attack. While they were rigged for stealth, they were hardly subtle.

The green and black landies came to a stop on the forest track, roughly 6 kilometers from Bravo Seven's target. With a jerk of his head, Tigger signaled for them to dismount. With no other sound than a slight rustle of the ghillie suits that covered them head to toe; Rika, Snorlax, Copper, and Oz dismounted and took up defensive positions around the Land rovers while Tigger moved up to talk to the man on the commander's machine gun.

"Thanks for the ride mate," whispered Tigger. The Bravo-six troop commander who'd bought them there give them a thumbs up.

"No problem," he said, "call if you need us. I won't spend too much on your NAFFI account."

"Don't you bloody dare," snarled Tigger playfully. He knew Clark wouldn't buy drinks his NAFFI account… probably.

"Whatever mate, have a good recon," said Clark before turning to his driver. Tigger just shook his head as he stepped away from the Landy and took a knee with his rifle raised at the darkness. The 2 Land Rover's gunned their engines and drove off, bouncing off down the bumpy country track into the darkness. Tigger waited for the sound of the Landies to fade before moving up next to Snorlax, who shone a small red filtered torch onto his waterproofed map of the area. After a moment to study the map and get their bearings, Tigger pressed his comms.

"Hello Zero, this is Bravo-Seven-Zero-Alpha, we have boots on the ground, Bravo-Six has withdrawn and we are Oscar Mike to target. Out."

"I got us an alternative route boss," whispered Snorlax when Tigger was finished reporting to command. Tigger looked at the map while Snorlax explained and pointed. "We take the high ground to the south, it'll put us in position above the target well before dawn."

"Alright," Tigger whispered, "tactical column, let's move. Snor, you got point."

Snorlax took the lead, with the patrol slowly rising and dropping in behind one another and moving for the cover of the thick forest. For the next few hours, they climbed, snaking through thick jungle forest with rifles scanning. Aside from their full ghillie suits, fighting order and light packs, they were more or less carrying their standard gear: Rika and Coppers carried their sniper rifles or 'Longs' as they were more commonly known. Tigger had a Commander's target locating system (CTLS), Oz had the Minimi and Snorlax had the groups medkit and a Viper thermal sight mounted to his C8.

That's why Snorlax was on point, his viper could pick out the thermal radiation of a man-sized target at 1200 meters on its highest setting day or night. And at the moment, he was the only one in the patrol who could see further than 10 meters ahead of themselves. A combination of cloud cover and the thick jungle canopy had made night vision next to useless. They also had noise discipline in effect, simple communications were through a system of pre-arranged codes broadcast through the controlled depressing of the transmit buttons of the personal comms, a reworked version of Morse code. Anything more critical was through touch, or and only if critically necessary, a whisper.

Though they could see very little of it, the SAS liked the Japanese jungle. The cool midnight air and terrain reminded them less of the jungles of Burma or Sierra-Leone, and more of the forests of Wales and the Brecken Beacons near Hereford. It almost was enough to make them homesick.

They moved slowly and silently with each step calculated and executed to produce minimal sound and to leave minimal disruption to the jungle, just in case anyone was following them. Every 10 minutes, Snorlax would signal a halt and they would stop and a knee to scan the area and as in one case, let a herd of infected pass through them. After an hour of climbing, they reached their destination above the target village and took a knee, dropping into a herringbone while. After a moment to ensure the area was secure, Tigger moved up to join Snorlax.

"Alright mate, You take Oz and go to OP Bravo. I'll take Copper and Rika to OP Alpha. See you in 2 days," whispered Tigger.

"WILCO," replied Snorlax, "Stay safe boss."

Tigger clicked his throat mic, "Rika, Coppers, on me."

Tigger broke away from the patrol and headed further into the jungle with Rika and Coppers fell in behind him while Oz and Snorlax headed for their own observation point.

After 10 minutes, Tigger, Rika and Coppers reached their observation point about 100 meters from the farm's perimeter, on an outcropping of rock covered with dirt and overgrown grass at the edge of the clearing so they could see over the perimeter wall and into the interior. Slowly, with eyes glued to the carbine's sights, they did a sweep of the area and, satisfied they were unobserved and alone Tigger went prone while Rika and Coppers set up their longs, a PSG-1 and L96 respectively, settling the long rifles on their bipods and getting comfortable next to Tigger.

Once they were set, Tigger spoke in a hushed voice into his radio:

"Bravo-Seven-Bravo, this is Bravo-Seven-Zero-Alpha. We are at OP Alpha. Over."

" _Bravo-Seven-Zero-Alpha, this is Bravo-Seven-Bravo. Roger, we are in position at OP Bravo. Out,"_ replied Snorlax over the encrypted radio. Satisfied that they were set, Tigger spoke to Rika and Copper.

"Alright, we'll do two on, one off, alternating every 4 hours. Wake the other person up if something happens. We'll finish setting things up then, Rika, you kip first. Then Copper, then me. Understood."

Rika and Copper both nodded, and started setting up their position. They shed their light patrol packs and set them down in front of them, so they could get at their kit easily. They quietly moved any branches or stones from underneath them so that they could lay comfortably, and repositioned them in front of them to give them better camo. With group prep done, Rika pushed her rifle aside slightly and pulled her patrol pack closer and placed it under her head to use as a pillow, and rapidly went to sleep.

Tigger glanced at his watch; 02:06. They had a few hours before any major groups of people would be up. He then set aside his rifle and opened his patrol pack, removing and assembling a Canon EOS 7D MK2 camera with an EF-S 18-200mm lens. The camera was fitted with sound absorbent padding and was sprayed green and covered with strips of camouflage tape and netting. Tigger positioned the camera on top of his bag, using it for comfortable stability, before settling down.

While Tigger was dealing with the SLR, Coppers had silently settled in behind his rifle and set up his night vision. Without the all-consuming darkness of the jungle canopy, and because the cloud cover was dissipating slightly, night vision was effective again. As Coppers shouldered his rifle and put an eye to his scope, Tigger got out his CTLS and activated its night vision function before depressed a button on his CLTS, shooting an infrared laser that displayed to Tigger the bearing and distance to whatever he pointed it at.

"Eyes on," whispered Coppers. Tigger nodded. They could both see the whole compound.

The settlement was big and a well-fortified. If these guys hadn't beaten them to it, the army would probably have set up a regional patrol base there. It was about the size of two football pitches next to each other, with a completely encompassing high stone wall, which in turn had 100 meters of clear ground to the tree line on all sides. Inside the wall was a large main building situated in the rear third of the compound, with the remaining space being taken up by smaller municipal buildings such as barns. The main house was old but beautiful and well maintained. Tigger recalled the info packs they'd been given about Japanese buildings and guessed from the architecture its was from the late Edo period, so mid-1800's.

Aside from the buildings within the perimeter. The position also boasted several traps outside its perimeter. Sharpened wooden stakes dug into the ground at an angle, in keeping with some noisemakers they'd spotted and disarmed in the forest on their way in. Defenses designed to keep infected at bay and alert the occupants to anything coming, smart. Their defenses were good, enough to keep infected and your average scavenger/ marauder out, but not the SAS.

"Watchman on stag at the east gate," muttered Coppers. Tigger panned around. Sure enough, standing on top of a small hut, just next to the main gate was a person looking out at the darkness with a rifle.

"Looks like an M24," muttered Coppers.

"Makes sense," replied Tigger, "SDF standard sniper rifle, and there was a major base not far away. Also, explains the Humvees we saw in the aerial recon. What can you tell about the guy on stag?"

"Male, mid 20's. Black hair, wearing hiking gear and a skiing jacket. No night vision that I can see. Looks like he's all they've got on stag."

"Only one road in, up a mountain and they're surrounded by thick forest," muttered Tigger. "They probably think they're good with him and their perimeter defenses."

"Maybe…" said Tigger. He looked away from his sight for a moment, glancing at Rika to check she was asleep. "So, what's going on with you and Rika?"

"Boss?" asked Coppers, unsure what Tigger was referring to.

"Can't hide it from me mate," said Tigger with a smile. "I overheard you two in her flat that morning."

"Good ears boss," muttered Coppers as he took a closer look at the barn. "And there's nothing between us."

"Good to hear," said Tigger, suddenly turning serious. "Because you don't want to go there, Mike. Don't care if it's just a cheeky once in a while shag behind the armory, but don't let it become personal. You don't know if and when one of you is going to be putting the other in the ground. Clear?"

"Roger that boss," replied Coppers. He thought about if for a moment, before burying it and resuming his observation.

…

Over the next few hours, all was quiet. There was no infected or hostile movement and the only movement when the man on watch was relieved at 04:00 by a man of similar age with brown hair armed with an M4. The time was mainly spent doing range cards, making observations and taking caffeine pills to stay awake. At about 4:30, dawn broke. By 05:00, people were starting to come out of the buildings and daily life resume. They watched as everyone came and went, taking pictures of everything that happened, until 06:00 when Tigger checked his watch.

"That's me," he said. He nudged Rika a few times and she woke with a start. "Rise and shine sleepyhead. You're stag. I'm down till ten, don't wake me up unless something major happens And try to keep it quiet."

Tigger handed Rika the canon and promptly rolled over and almost immediately started snoring quietly.

"Quiet he says…" muttered Coppers as he handed Rika a Ration pack. "He's the one who snores like a drunken sailor."

"Yeah, well," said Rika as she tore open the cold ration pack, "We can just gag him if he gets too loud."

"Gag a 6-year career SAS officer in his sleep?" asked Coppers incredulously. "Good luck. I'll make it a sterling eulogy."

"Haha," replied Rika sarcastically before putting her cold rations down and looking through the canon. "So I heard you and he talking about you and me."

"Thought you were asleep," Said Coppers.

"Trick I picked up," she said. "Guys will try and make phone calls to their girlfriend's or wives while they think you're asleep the morning after."

"Charming," commented Coppers.

"So, he thinks were fucking?"

"You heard him. He thinks we are."

"Hmm," Rika paused for a moment. "So why aren't we? You're not gay are you?"

Coppers chuckled while continuing to scan the farm.

"No, defiantly not gay," he said, "Nothing wrong with that of course, I know Oz is. That's why he's alone with Snor."

"Really?" asked Rika, glancing sidewise at him.

"No," replied Coppers with an evil smile. "But to answer the previous question, I was waiting for you to ask, to be honest."

"What? You like women to beg for it?" asked Rika with an equally sly grin.

"No, just never was one for the 'hello, who are you? Wanna fuck?' kind of thing," said Coppers. "Like to get to know someone first."

"Well, you regular Casanova you," said Rika smugly, "When we get back, meet me behind the armory… and we'll have some fun."

"Yes, ma'am," smiled Coppers at the thought of getting laid, before returning to business. "Head's up, we've got a meeting, center of the camp."

Rika picked up the canon and pointed at the camp and zoomed in. Sure enough, there was a group of people meeting in the middle of camp. About 7 or 8 people in their mid-20's and older, including the two Tigger and Coppers, had seen on stag, both were still fully tooled in combat webbing. A young boy, maybe 4 years old, ran up to the black-haired man laughing. The man smiled and picked up the boy and scooped him up before lifting him onto his shoulders. Judging from looks alone, the man was clearly the boy's father.

"Maybe some kind of morning meeting?" suggested Rika.

"Maybe, looks like they're still waiting for someone, though," said Coppers. "Hang on, got movement at the house, here comes someone… Female, mid 30's…Rika you got eyes on?"

Rika was silent. Coppers tracked the person from the house for another moment.

"Rika? You got eyes on?" he asked again. She was still silent. He looked sidewise at her. She had dropped the canon and was just staring at the camp, her face was pale, and paralyzed with shock. Coppers reached over and gave her a shake on the shoulder.

"Hey, you alright? You know her?"

Rika turned and looked him, her face still pale and shocked as she said one word.

"Shizuka."

"Your friend from before?" asked Coppers, slightly confused for the moment before putting his eye back to his scope and looking at the woman who'd come out of the building and was now at the meeting. "Is that her? The blond, is that her?"

"Yes!" cried Rika, loudly enough for Tigger to start to stir from his sleep. "She's alive!" Rika suddenly started to get up with intent to go down there, but only got to her knees before an arm shot out from below her, grabbing her shoulder and pulled her back down. She turned and glared at Tigger, only to find him staring back at her, one hand clamped on her shoulder, the other holding a suppressed Sig pointing at her.

"Try that again, and I will shoot you to protect the troop's position," warned Tigger, "Now, get down and explain."

Rika didn't move a muscle but just glared at Tigger before lowering herself back down to the ground. Tigger slowly holstered his Sig and waited for her to explain herself.

"The well-endowed blond down there," she said. "Shizuka Marikawa. She was my roommate and my girlfriend before the fall. She was the reason I went back into Tokonosu to begin with. Last I heard from her was the day the EMP hit, she said she was with someone and had borrowed the guns from my apartment, but she didn't tell me where she was."

"Are you sure that's her?" asked Tigger. Rika went into one of her pockets and pulled out a leather wallet, she removed something from it and offered it to Tigger. He looked curiously at her then took it; it was a picture. A small portrait shot of Rika in a ceremonial police uniform with a young, well-endowed blond woman in her early 20's, both were celebrating happily and Rika had an arm around the blonde's shoulder.

"That was taken on the day I graduated from the police academy," explained Rika. Tigger handed the portrait to Coppers who looked at it, before looking through his scope which was still trained on the woman below.

"It's her," said Coppers. "No doubt."

Tigger sighed, their mission had been just made more complicated. They could wait and try to effect an extraction for Rika's friend, but that would cut short their mission and make peaceful contact with this settlement all but impossible. On the other hand, however… they may be able to use this to their advantage

"Alright," said Tigger. "Coppers, stay here and observe what's happening. Notify Oz and Snorlax of what's happened. Rika, you're with me. We're going to go back over the hill and call command and explain all this."

"But I'd…" started Rika, but Coppers cut her off.

"She's not in any danger Rika," said Coppers. "If anything she look's happy. But I'll keep an eye on her all the same."

"Thank you," said Rika.

"Alright, let's move," announced Tigger. He and Rika grabbed their weapons and immediate kit and pulled back up the hill, slipping deeper into the woods to avoid detection. Coppers meanwhile, increased the magnification on his scope and focused on Shizuka. He looked at her and nodded satisfactorily.

"She does have a really nice rack…"

…

 **Yokosuka Naval Base  
Z-day + 2961  
D-Day+27  
07:00**

"Right you bunch of gobshites listen in!" shouted Roderick to 1st platoon as Captain Griffin, OC Young and the SAS Captain from Bravo-Six troop walked into the tent.

"Alright boys," said Griffin, "I know we just got back from securing that bridge but command have another one for us. Providing QRF for an SAS troop observing a survivor colony on Mount Fuji."

Suddenly the marines from 1st platoon sat up and started taking more of an interest. It wasn't every day that 'the boys from Hereford' needed help, much less asked for it. Let alone suffer the indignity and embarrassment of asking the Royal Marines for it.

"We, and Bravo-Six troop," said Griffin with a nod to the Flektarn clad SAS Captain, "will be on standby in a flight of Lynx's. If the SAS call, we'll be wheels up immediately and overhead in no less than 10 minutes, and understand this; if they call us, we will either be coming in firing or will be escorting the relief copters that are being loaded as we speak and assisting on the ground with humanitarian efforts. So, gear up for a fight and be ready on the flight line in 30 minutes, but be prepared for humanitarian ops as well as Hearts and Minds guys."

"So two in the chest, one in the head. Got it, sir," said one marine. The platoon all laughed and even Young and Griffin passed a smile as Roderick started ripping into the marine to restore order.

…

 **Outside Survivor settlement  
D-Day+27  
07:06**

Tigger glanced down at his watch, 07:06, the marines would be in their choppers and ready by now… Christ, why did it have to be the marines on QRF? Seriously, what the hell was pathfinder platoon doing that was so damn important?!

"Alright, you guy's ready?"

After talking to command and getting the green light to head down and initiate contact, Tigger, Rika and Coppers had moved down to the road, and were hidden at the treeline about 50 meters from the camp's front gate. Coppers was lying prone behind his L96, its Schmitt and Bender sight poised on the lookout's forehead while Rika sat impatiently next to him while using makeup remover to remove the worst of the camouflage crème they'd all painted their faces with.

"Set," said Coppers. "One wrong move and I'll peg'im then call in the cavalry."

Tigger nodded then pressed his personal radio, "Bravo-Seven-Bravo, this is Bravo-Seven-Zero-Alpha. We are at FAP. Report status over."

" _Bravo-Seven-Zero-Alpha, this is Bravo-Seven-Bravo,"_ replied Snorlax _"Overwatch in position, ready to provide fire support. Over."_

"Roger, out," replied Tigger. He took a deep breath, he couldn't believe he was about to do this. He turned to Rika. "You ready?"

"Yeah," she said, eager to get on.

"Ok then," said Tigger. He nodded to Coppers. "Wish us luck."

He and Rika stood up and they emerged from the treeline and into the road. They'd both shed their ghillie suits and hastily removed as much of their camo cream as they could, but they were both still wearing camouflage and webbing, having come tooled up for a gunfight. They had scarcely turned towards the gate when the man on watch had is weapon trained on them and shouting at them.

"Soko ni yamero! Anata no buki o otosu!" _(Stop right there! Drop your weapons!)_

"Hold it," said Rika. Tigger froze, he was letting her take the lead on this one. "Weapons down. Slowly."

Tigger complied. He released his C8's carry strap and held the weapon at arm's length out in front of him. He released the magazine and let the mag drop to the ground before placing the rifle down a short distance from himself. Before repeating the treatment for his Sig. Tigger knew what he was doing, though, he'd deliberately left the C8 with a round chambered and a 40mm HE grenade in the underslung launcher, so that if this went sour he could dive for it and put a 40mm down range while sprinting for cover. Now unarmed, he raised his hands to show he was weaponless. Once Rika had done the same, she called back to the watchman who'd been joined by the brown-haired man from before.

"Watashi no namae wa Minami Rika desu. Watashi wa Marikawa Shizuka no tomodachi desu." _(My name is Rika Minami. I'm a friend_ of _Shizuka Marikawa.)_

The two people looked at each other for a moment, and after a brief conversation that Rika and Tigger were too far away to hear, the brown haired one stepped off while the other held them in his sights.

" _Got him dead to rights boss,"_ said Coppers over the radio, still undetected in the trees. _"On your go."_

Tigger couldn't reply without risking giving away the sniper's existence to the guardsman, but he knew Coppers wouldn't fire unless they were engaged, or he thought they were going to fire… Tigger inwardly prayed that they weren't stupid enough to fire.

A few tense moments passed before the guardsman shouted something at them in Japanese.

"He said to take 10 paces forward," said Rika. The 2 started walking, inwardly counting their paces. Tigger was mildly impressed, they'd moved them away from their weapons in case they had anything in them, smart. He'd done it sooner… but not bad.

Rika and he stopped at 10 paces and waited, the guard not taking his sights of them for a moment until he looked down behind the wall briefly as someone spoke to him, but as soon as they were done his sights were back on them. A moment later, the front gate opened. The brown-haired man came out first with an M16 assault rifle raised and on them. He was followed by another larger man with short spiky black hair and an M4, and finally by a woman with long purple hair and a katana drawn and in hand.

The small armed group formed a semi-circle around the gate, brown hair on point, black hair on the right, samurai chick on the left with the watchman on Overwatch. They held Tigger and Rika in their sights for a moment, before Mr. brown hair looked up at the watchman and nodded. The watchman, in turn, nodded down to someone behind the gate, and the middle-aged blond woman emerged from the gate.

"RIKA!" she screamed in joy as she laid eyes on the purple haired sniper.

"SHIZUKA!" Rika cried as she rushed forward to meet her old girlfriend. The two middle-aged women met in the middle before either side's escort could stop them, clutching and crying into each other as they sank to their knees. Tigger and the group of people from the settlement just stood there and watched before the Mr. Brown hair broke the silence.

"Well," he said glancing over at the purple haired girl, "not exactly how I pictured meeting one of the top snipers in Japan." The purple haired samurai smiled briefly at him, before returning her glare to Tigger, as did Mr. Brown hair.

"And you are?" she asked, switching to English to address the obvious Gaijin.

"Captain Antony Fletcher. 22 SAS regiment, British Army," said Tigger as he dropped his arms. Mr. Brown hair didn't look convinced. "And you are?"

"Busujima Takashi," he replied. "Now the truth. Who are you and where did you come from?"

"My name is Captain Antony Fletcher. The commanding officer of Bravo Seven troop, D squadron, 22 SAS regiment, British Army. Here on behalf of the United Nations and the Japanese government, which Rika will back up. As for where I came from, Camden Town by way of Hereford."

"He's telling the truth Busujima-san," said Rika, as she pulled herself free of Shizuka for a

moment and stood. "The Japanese government wasn't destroyed. They pulled out of Japan about a month after this all started. We came back nearly a month ago, with the British who were in turn sent by the UN."

Takashi considered her words but still didn't remained convinced.

"I'm prepared to listen," he said cautiously, "but I'm going to need proof before I let you inside."

"As you wish," said Tigger. As he raised his hand to his radio, Mr. Black hair snapped his rifle into his shoulder to fire. Tigger, fearing that Coppers was about to fire at the overt aggression, snapped his clenched fist up as a signal for Coppers to hold fire, although Tigger was kicking himself, he couldn't have made it more obvious if he tried.

"If I may use my radio, I'll get you that proof. It should be here in a little over 5 minutes," said Tigger calmly. Takashi looked the man in the eye before nodding and motioning for Mr. Black hair to lower his weapon which he did, but only slightly. Tigger nodded appreciatively and clicked his radio.

"Hello Zero, this is Bravo-Seven-Zero-Alpha. The situation at objective Alpha is as follows. Peaceful contact has been made, however, the leader is unconvinced that we are who we say we are and wants proof before we continue. Request scramble the QRF to our position and establish low-level orbit above us. Humanitarian supplies to follow when requested. Over."

A moment passed and Tigger was about to press the radio again to re-transmit his message when the voice of control came over the radio.

" _Bravo-Seven-Zero-Alpha, this is Zero. Roger, message understood. QRF is airborne, ETA on your position, 5 mikes. Over."_

"Zero, this is Bravo-Seven-Zero-Alpha. Roger, understood. Out," Replied Tigger. He hung up the radio and returned his attention to Takashi and the others in front of him.

"Proof will be here in about 5 minutes," he said. "So…" He paused and turned to Rika, "Guessing you'll be putting in for some leave then?"

For a few minutes, the waited in a sort of calm standoff, swapping the odd question and answer only to be followed by more awkward silence. After a few minutes, the unmistakable echoing _crump_ of helicopter rotor blades could be heard in the distance, steadily getting louder.

"Ah," said Tigger, turning to look up in the direction of the approaching helicopters.

"Saeko," said Takashi, "Go get Kohta. I need his expertise."

"Yes, my love," said the purple haired samurai. She passed Tigger a look and headed inside at a jog. Tigger watched her go over his shoulder.

'My love?' He thought. 'Guess that confirms that there are families here.'

The sounds of helicopters grew louder until, suddenly, a dark green and gray striped shape roared over the tree tops and over the clearing, causing a small hurricane through the trees with the downforce with its powerful rotor blades. The survivors watched in awe as it came back around and 3 of its kin came over as well. Tigger watched as the man who'd he'd seen on watch in the night with an M24 jogged up and joined them.

"Kohta!" Takashi shouted, struggling to make himself heard over the noise of the 4 helicopters. "This man says he's with the British army and he called in those helicopters as proof. Are they British?"

"No doubt!" replied Kohta star struck at the orbiting helis. "Those are British AH9 battlefield Lynx's in RAF Colours! Armed with 7.62 L7A2 GPMGs!"

"Army Air Corps actually, but close enough," said Tigger. He turned to face Takashi. "Proof enough for you?"

Takashi, still slightly bewildered by the sudden appearance of the helicopters, and what it meant for his people, simply nodded.

"If it's alright with you," said Tigger, "I'll have the marines and the rest of my troop deploy outside the walls and set up on defensive positions. That much noise will have attracted some unwanted attention, and we have much to discuss."

Takashi nodded, "I'll ask some of our gunners to go out with them. We know the lay of the land and which way _they_ usually come from."

…

 **Target Settlement Main house  
D-Day+27  
07:30**

With OC Young managing the deployment of the marine detachment, with local experts attached, into a defensive perimeter and with the Lynx's safely away, Captain Griffin waited patiently for the arrival of dignitaries from the Japanese government and brass from army HQ to arrive.

While he waited, he took a moment to be inwardly impressed by the settlement, which he had since found out had been named 'Companions rest', by its founders and occupants. While Griffin thought, the name was kind of cliché, he couldn't deny that the place was impressive. It had fresh drinking water through a well on site, they were growing their own crops and even had eggs from a chicken coop at the back of the property. They had a limited garage facility for their 3 Humvees (which as he had suspected they would, had JGSDF markings on them) and an immensely large supply of wood in the surrounding trees that, with proper cultivation, could be used indefinably for construction or used as fuel.

In fact, the only things that they appeared to be short of were weapons and people. While he'd been waiting, Griffin had been counting heads, there were no more than 15 fighting age adults, one teenage girl and an infant. As for weapons, all he'd seen being carried were a number of Japanese swords (both metal and wooden), a handful of assault and sniper rifles and a good pleather of improvised weapons. Griffin also thought their defenses could do with a little work, more sangers around the perimeter, for example. Still, they were problems that could and would be solved in due course.

Just as another helicopter appeared in the sky above, Young walked up casually, wiping one of his swords with a rag.

"Defense perimeter set boss," he said as he finished removing the last of some blood from his sword and resheathed it in its scabbard. "Few groups of zeddies in twos and threes but nothing the lads can't handle. Do I have to attend this meeting?"

Griffin made an amused huff as the helicopter, now identifiable as a JMSDF Blackhawk, touched down just beyond the gates.

"Diplomacy is a vital skill for any officer, cadet," Griffin said matter-of-factly. "Besides, I need you to give me a nudge in case I start nodding off."

"Ha!" snorted Young as people in suits started to disembark from the chopper. "And knowing your old ass it'll happen!"

"Keep talking cadet," said, Griffin, as he stepped forward to greet the newcomers. "The time until your commissioning is getting longer and longer."

Griffin smirked as Young swore at himself and fell into step just behind him. One of the men in a suit with a pair of semi-transparent sunglasses and a hand-rolled cigarette in his mouth.

"Inspector Miyamoto, glad you could join us," said Captain Griffin, offering a hand to the man.

"Glad to be here," said the police inspector as he looked around. "Shall we?"

The marines, along with the inspector and his small retinue of delegates headed up towards the main house. As they walked, Inspector Miyamoto noticed a group of four people, two men and two women, watching his every movement as if he were the enemy. In a way, he supposed, he was. He had been a cop, his duty to protect and serve, the people. He'd certainly failed in one of those regards. Inspector Miyamoto paused to extinguish his cigarette before proceeding to the main house.

They headed inside the main house towards the large main living room, a large open plan room at the middle rear of the property, with a large fire pit in the middle and quilted cushions around it to sit on. Griffin admitted, it did feel homely. In the room already was the SAS Captain Fletcher, as well as an attractive pink haired woman and a black haired man with thick glasses.

"Captain Griffin, Inspector Miyamoto," greeted Tigger with a respectful nod, catching the attention of the man and woman. "This is Takagi Saya and her husband Takagi Kohta. They're in charge of supply and guns around here respectably. Mr. and Mrs. Takagi, this is Chief Inspector Miyamoto."

"Miyamoto?!" cried Saya. "Are you related to…"

"Dad..?" "Tadashi…?"

Everyone turned to see a middle-aged woman with short hair and an attractive younger woman in her mid-20's which was clearly her daughter standing in the doorway, looks of shock on their faces. Inspector Miyamoto's face was also one of complete shock.

"Kiriko… Rei…"

"DAD!" The younger of the two women, followed closely by her mother practically rugby tackled the inspector in tears. Everyone watched as the reunited family sank to their knees and cried their eyes out in joy.

As another group of people entered the room, Tigger leant over to Griffin.

"That's 2 reunions from one group in one day," he said. "One more and I'll eat my beret!"

"Saeko?" Young suddenly said. Griffin and Tigger whipped around to see you officer cadet staring at the purple haired samurai that had greeted Tigger at the gate. "Is… Is that you?"

"Chris?" she said equally surprised.

Griffin turned to Tigger.

"You want that beret fired or baked?"

…

 **Sea of Japan  
** **Z-day + 2961  
D-Day+27  
09:30**

Beneath the glistening surface of the Sea of Japan, a predator was searching for its prey. The predator was the aptly named _HMS Ambush_ ; the taskforce's attached Astute class attack submarine. She was 97 meters long, weighed 7,800 tonnes while submerged, and was carrying enough spearfish torpedoes to sink any ship and enough tomahawk missiles to devastate a city.

Since the outbreak, the Ambush and her sister submarines had been largely relegated to patrol missions, coastal reconnaissance and insertion of small land teams. Today, however, _Ambush_ was doing what she was designed for; hunting down hostile submarines in open sea.

Aboard the _Ambush_ 's command centre, Commander Meres calmly stood from his command chair and smoothed the wrinkles from his duty uniform.

"Status?" he asked his bridge crew.

"Reactor operating well within normal perimeters," reported Lieutenant Taylor, the ship's engineering officer, as her hands danced over the keyboard at the engineering station.

"Speed 20 knots, bearing 010, depth 50 meters," said the Helmsmen, Midshipman West, glancing over his shoulder at the captain.

"No contacts on passive sonar sir," replied the ship's warfare officer Sub-Lieutenant Mai. "Tubes are clear and missiles are on standby."

"Understood," said Meres, before returning to his report. Their mission in the sea of Japan was to track down a Russian Akula class submarine which had been spotted near Sado Island and shot down a fleet air arm Harrier, killing the pilot. But while the death of the pilot was unfortunate and to be mourned as a tragedy, Meres had to see the bigger picture: if an Akula-class attack submarine, potentially carrying nuclear weapons, was allowed to get into a position where it could fire on the task force, there would be _a lot_ more people dead than just one pilot. They'd first headed to Sado island. And while there had been no sign of the submarine or anyone left at the island's major port facility, the SBS team they'd put ashore had confirmed that there had been some kind of heavy presence in the port and recently. That was 12 days ago, _Ambush_ had been combing the sea for any signs of the submarine ever since, using their passive sonar to search rather than their active sonar so they would remain hidden from the enemy.

"Sir, I've got something on passive," called a sonar operator.

Meres stood up and walked over to the young operator's station, who was staring at his screen and had his hands on his headphones.

"Is it the Akula?" asked Meres. The sonar operator closed his eyes and focused.

"Possibly sir… It's faint but defiantly a sub. I hold it at approximately 25 miles out, 400 meters down, approximate bearing 357, going away from us."

"Well, it's the best lead we've got, good work. Helmsman, plot a pursuit and intercept course."

"Aye, sir!" replied the helmsman.

Meres sat back down in his command chair as _Ambush_ rolled slightly as she turned onto her new course, and he smiled;

They'd picked up the scent.

* * *

 **Stag** : British army slang term for guard duty. The term "Mate, it's your stag." is among the most common and hated terms in the British army (or any army for that matter) as it is normally delivered with a light(ish) kick to the head in the middle of the night, and means you having to get out of your nice warm sleeping bag, and going to spend the next hour or so prone position down in the mud in a sentry position, waiting for the enemy.

 **Sanger:** British army term for guard tower/ position. Usually built of HESCO bastions, sandbags, wood and generally whatever troops can get their hands on. Normally feature a sniper rifle and/ or Gimpy (L7A2 GPMG) and other heavy weapons. Also normally have pages cut from porn mags pinned to walls for morale purposes.

 **WMIK (weapon mount instalation kit):** modification to army landrovers converting them to the firesupport and light recce role. Inclused a 7.62 GPMG on the passanger seat for the commander, full role cage, and a 360 degree mount for .50 cal machine guns, or 40mm Granade Machine Guns. Used by both SAS and Regular army for many years in numerous warzones, including Iraq and Afghanistan.

 **NAFFI:** Navy, Army and Airforce Institute. British equivilent to a PX or base exchange. Found on almost all ships and sizeable bases.

Right, I hope you enjoyed your Christmas present.

I was a little apprehensive about this chapter so please let me know if I pulled it off.

So yeah, merry Christmas and a happy new year to all of you

As ever, please review/ favourite/ follow and see you next time.

Jango


	9. Chapter 8

**Operation: Archangel**

 **Chapter 8**

 **Companions rest  
Z-day + 2961  
D-Day+27  
07:40**

Having begged leave from the meeting, Chris and Saeko stepped outside to catch up. As soon as they were outside, Chris rushed forward and embraced her. For a moment, the apocalypse was forgotten, and he was back in the sensei's dojo.

"In the end, we remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends,"Saeko whispered in his ear, returning his embrace.

"True friends are never apart. Maybe in distance, but never in heart," replied Chris. "It's good to see you again Saeko-san."

"And you Chris," Saeko returned. She shifted slightly and they released each other. "I don't understand, though, how did you get here?"

"It's a long story," said Chris. "I'll tell you mine, you tell me yours?"

"After you," said Saeko with a smile. She had always enjoyed Chris conversation and company.

They wandered around the settlement, as they did he told her about how the fall in Britain had gone down from his perspective and, how if not for the sword skills taught to him by her and her father, he probably wouldn't have made it to Scotland alive, she began to realize just how much she had missed him. He told her about Scotland, how he worked in the fields before joining the royal marines, his assignment to Captain Griffin and the UN deployment to Japan at the request of the Japanese government. Before he could go any further he stopped, both his story and in his tracks. Saeko took a step more before looking back at him slightly confused.

"I went to the school, by the way," he said. "I was looking for you and the master."

"I was not there," Saeko said sadly. "I haven't been there since it happened, and father was overseas at the time."

"I know, I didn't find him there," Chris said, pausing for a moment before grinning. "But I found Yamato."

"Yamato-san is alive?!" Saeko cried happily. Chris smiled, despite her traditional ladylike appearance and demeanour in public, Chris knew that the same happy girl he'd spent his preteen and teenage summers sparring and living with was still there.

Chris nodded, "I found him and some 36 survivors. Mainly old students and their families. He gave me these…"

Saeko watched as Chris unwound the seago that bound his swords to his belt, before kneeling before Saeko and presenting the swords flat on open palms.

"Yamato said your father had these forged for you," he said. "It is only right that you have them."

Saeko picked up the katana from her friend and looked over its saya before drawing the katana free and examining it closely.

"This sword has seen some use," she said, noting the slightest of scratches on the blade that had yet to be polished out.

"A minor skirmish or two," admitted Chris, thinking back to its first use across that bridge.

"Then these swords have their allegiances," she said, as she returned the katana to its saya and replaced it next to the wakizashi in Chris' hands. "May the strength of the samurai flow through them unto you. Young-san."

Chris nodded and rose, retying the seago and securing the blades at his side.

"So," he said. "That's my story. What did I miss from your life in the last 8 years?"

Saeko opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a happy squeal of a small child racing towards them.

"Saeko-oba! Saeko-oba!"

Chris and Saeko turned to see a small boy of around 4 years racing towards them as fast as his little legs could carry him, following behind him was a man in his 20's with black hair and brown eyes. He had a warm smile on his face as he tracked the 4-year-old into the Saeko's arms.

"He was wondering where his Aunty Saeko had disappeared off to," He said. "So he decided to help me find you."

"Did he now?" asked Saeko warmly as she tickled the boy's chin. "And is my little shogun being good today?"

"HAI!" the little boy giggled. "Mommy and daddy are talking with those strange people. So, they can't play with me now. Will you play with me oba?"

"Maybe later Daichi-Kun," Saeko said warmly. "Why don't you go find Alice-Senpai and see if she will play with you?"

"Ok!" the boy announced cheerfully before Saeko set him down and he scurried off in search of his suggested playmate. The man watched as the boy ran past him with a smile.

"I don't know how Saya and Kohta keep up with him," he chuckled, much to Saeko's amusement.

"With great difficulty," she said with a chuckle. She then remembered Chris was standing there, somewhat bemused by the sight of Saeko with a small child.

"My apologies Chris," she said, before motioning to the man before him. "This is my husband Takashi. Takashi, this is Chris Young. Officer Cadet with the British Royal Marines, former student of my father, and one of my oldest friends."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Young-san," said Takashi bowing to Chris. Chris bowed back.

"Likewise, a pleasure to meet you. Busujima-san," said Chris respectively, before grinningly "And for god sake call me Chris. Every time I hear Young-san I expect to be facing master Busujima and one of his practical jokes."

Takashi laughed while Saeko smiled and shook her head slightly. "Alright then. But only if you call me Takashi!"

"Deal," said Chris and the two shook on it. Chris was mildly impressed that Takashi didn't wince at the death grip he was putting on his hand, although Takashi was giving him quite the grip in return. Suddenly, Chris radio chirped and the voice of one of the section NCOs came through Chris' headset.

" _Young, this is 2 section. We need you on the perimeter. We've got a few zeds coming in and we don't want to make noise. Over."_

"On my way 2 section. Out," he replied before turning back to Saeko and Takashi. "Got to dash, duty calls. I'll be sure to be back soon to catch up, though."

"See you later then Chris," Saeko said as Chris departed to go to the assistance of the marines. When he was gone, Saeko embraced her husband, nuzzling her face into his neck

"Are you not needed at the meeting my love?" she asked. Takashi shook his head.

"Saya, Kohta and the others have it well in hand," He said. "I'm just amazed that not only did we find Shizuka's friend, but Rei's father as well."

"I'm happy for them," said Saeko. "They were happy, but always seemed to be missing someone or something. Maybe they've found it again."

"And what about you?" asked Takashi. "A reunion with an old friend? Need I be worried?"

"Do I detect a pang of jealously my love?" Saeko asked with an evil smile. She giggled as the colour drained slightly from Takashi's face before lovingly caressing his cheek.

"No, you needn't be worried. Chris is one of my oldest and dearest friends, one of many I feared was gone. To see him again makes me happy, but my heart belongs to you, Takashi."

"Phew!" sighed Takashi as he let out a relieved sigh of air. "And there I thought I'd have to duel him for your affections."

Saeko laughed at the image of Chris and Takashi fighting hand to hand for her affections. "Don't be ridiculous my love, I would not let that happen," she said kindly. She started heading back towards the main house and calling back over her shoulder happily.

"Besides, between what my father taught him and his marine training, you wouldn't last a minute!"

…

Meanwhile, Captain Griffin, Tigger and Inspector Miyamoto's escorting civil servants were sat down around a table with Saya and Hirano, going over the details of what realigning with the government and accepting UN aid would entail.

"So, you're not going to move us?" surmised Saya having listened to the civil servant's ramblings for the last few minutes.

"That's right," said Griffin, who himself had had enough of the desk jockeys ramblings. "Not unless you want us too, but we'd far rather you'd stay here."

"Good," said Saya firmly. "If you'd suggested relocating us, we'd have told you to get out and never come back here again." At this the civil servant started sweating slightly, not expecting to have such a tough customer on their first assignment, whereas Tigger and Griffin just looked at each other smugly.

"I like her," said Tigger.

"The short and basic version is that we don't want to relocate you to some compound where you become as reliant on us as a baby on its mother's breast," said Griffin, pre-empting the Civil servant's attempts to overly explain what they wanted. "We want you to do is stay where you are, and keep doing what you're doing. And occasionally let us base troops here and conduct local operations from here."

"So, what do we get out of it?" asked Saya.

"Training, supplies and facilities," said Tigger. "Not just weapons training, although we can and probably will provide that, but training in construction, agriculture, engineering… crucial skills you need to build, maintain and expand a settlement. Things like that."

"We'd also help with things you can't handle yourselves," said Griffin. "For argument's sake, say someone was injured and needed an operation you couldn't do yourselves. Just give us a call and we'll get transport out ASAP and get them to our hospital ship."

"And if we are attacked?" asked Saya, staring Griffin in the eye. "If were attacked by _them?_ By marauders?"

Tigger and Griffin both smiled in such a way, Saya could only describe it as predator like

"Then may god have mercy upon them," Griffin said with a smile, "Because we sure as hell _won't."_

…

A short while later, the British officers and the civil servants were excused so that the residents of Companions rest could have a meeting about whether they were going to align with the brits or not. Everyone was gathered in the living area and had positioned themselves around the fireplace with Rika and Inspector Tadashi sitting with their relevant relations.

"And that's it," said Saya having outlined all the major points from their meeting. "The government and British are offering us everything we need to survive long term. And I mean, _really_ long term."

"And all they want in return is to turn us into a military base," surmised Raiden as he glared at Inspector Miyamoto. Raiden was a large, bulky man with short black hair and green eyes, and a strong distrust of the government after the fall. Handy in a fight and whenever his brute strength was required, but more of a pain than anything else at any other time.

"No, they don't!" snapped Saya. She was about to rip into Raiden when Kohta brought her down.

"There'd be only one liaison officer here full time. Aside from that, it would be the occasional unit," he said. "And they'd get us the things we need; food, fuel, medicine, that sort of thing…"

"Not just that!" Saya cut in. "They want to teach us to do things we could never do before! Like how to recycle spent bullet casings to make new rounds. And give us everything we need to do it! They'll even fight with us if we ask them too."

"Not only that, but they'll help us with things we can't handle," said Takashi, "Like medical operations. If we'd had them last year, then maybe…"

Takashi stopped himself. Aside from Rika and Tadashi, they all knew what he was talking about. Everyone went quiet, at the mood dropped like a lead balloon.

"Alright," said Sachi, a slim attractive girl with long, flowing strawberry blond hair and blue eyes. "So, say we go for it. Are they really going to invest that much time and resources into us? There are only a few of us." People began to quietly murmur among themselves as they discussed their own thoughts on Sachi's point.

"Actually, I have something to say about that," said Saeko, silencing everyone. Over the years, everyone had come to respect the sword mistress as the matriarch of the settlement, and not just because of her fighting skill, or because she was married to Takashi.

"You may or may not know," she said clearly, "that one of the British marines that came here today was an old friend of mine, and a former student of my father. He told me that he had been to my father's school. And while he did not find my father, he did find some of my father's students and their families there, roughly 30 or so." She paused to let everyone digest the information.

"I propose to offer them a place here," she announced. "I doubt that they will all accept, but I expect the most loyal would. And it would give us more fighters and more hands around the place."

"Having a couple dozen trained and equipped samurai around the place wouldn't be a bad thing," said Kiriko. "It would mean that we could mount expeditions with less risk of attack while we're gone."

The meeting slid into a conversation as everyone spoke with those around them about their views and opinions on it. They let this continue for a few minutes before Takashi stood up from his cushion and spoke.

"I put it that we accept their offer," he said. "Those in favour?"

Saya, Kohta, Rei, Kiriko and Shizuka's hands went up immediately. Alice and a handful of other hands raised a moment later. After a few seconds, everyone's hands were up bar two.

"Alright then," said Takashi. He turned to face Rika and Tadashi. "We formally accept your offer."

…

The for the next few hours, Companions rest became a hotbed of activity as relief supplies were brought in via helicopter. The marines and SAS personnel, along with the engineering personnel that were flown in, busied themselves with setting up power generators, communications equipment, and other crucial relief infrastructure, including and a hot water shower, something the residence of companions rest were extremely happy for. All of this was done under the watchful eye of the head of supplies, Saya Takagi; whom the marines grew a quick respect for and a few even feared slightly after one unfortunate marine received a taste of her wrath after putting a chemical toilet a little too close to the main house.

As the day ended, most of the engineers and marines packed up their kit and headed off, promising to return with more supplies in the near future, however, Tigger and his SAS troop were tasked to remain for the foreseeable and assist the residents with anything they needed until the bureaucracy caught up.

That evening, the troopers were given a proper welcome. Takashi and Saeko made sure an entire spare room was given over to them, Saya arranged for futons to be set up for them and they were invited to join the inhabitants for dinner. A roaring hearth fire was built and bowls of steamed rice and vegetables were produced while sticks of meat were roasted over the open fire.

They ate in contented silence, listening to the crackle of the firewood and feasting on their meals. Coppers smiled as he took another bite of steamed veg, drinking in the peaceful atmosphere. This was a family meal gathered around a fire, nothing more, nothing less. The apocalypse could have completely passed him and he would never have known or cared.

He was just about to take another bite out of his meal when he felt someone watching him. He glanced up and around. Sure enough, a little boy, Daichi' Coppers recalled, was staring at him with an odd fascination with the man with a strange face, pale skin and red hair sat at his table. Coppers smiled kindly at him and nodded at him slightly. A few people chuckled as the small boy, having been caught staring, suddenly started consuming his meal slightly faster that he had been.

"Hey kid," Coppers said. Daichi looked back up at him and everyone else looked up from their meal with slight curiosity as Coppers rummaged through his packed trouser pocket, before pulling out a purple wrapped chocolate bar, unwrapping the top end and offering it to Daichi. The boy looked at it hesitantly, before looking up at his mother. Saya nodded her permission and he took it, examining it carefully like some new-found discovery before taking an expletory bite.

Everyone laughed as they boy's face lit up with untold joy as he munched away happily at the chocolate bar.

"Now what do we say Daichi?" asked Kohta in that tone that parents used when reminding their young offspring of something. Daichi stood up and walked around to Coppers before bowing to him.

"Arigato sensei," he said, much to the amusement to the rest of the troop.

"You're very welcome Daichi," said Coppers, roughening the kid's hair slightly before he retreated back to his parents.

"Aww, looks like Coppers has a new wittle fwend…" taunted Snorlax, only to receive a slap upside the head from Rika, much to everyone's amusement. The rest of the meal was spent in light-hearted conversation before finishing up with setting the night's stag rota, which the SAS troop insisted on participating in.

A few minutes later, and Coppers was just shoving a few final things from his patrol pack into his webbing for stag.

"Oi Snor. Can I borrow you NV's mate? Lend' em to the other lad on stag," he asked as he attached his own to his helmet.

"Sure mate!" called Snorlax as he, and he chucked the NV's and a headband over to Coppers. "Have a good stag."

"Ta mate. See you at two," replied Coppers as he shoved the borrowed night vision set into a pocket and scooped up his C8 and left the room.

As he made his way out of the house, he passed Rika going the other way, as they passed, she placed something into his pocket without stopping or saying anything. Coppers stopped and pulled it out, revealing it to be a hastily written note. He glanced over his shoulder to see Rika had disappeared upstairs. He shrugged and opened the note.

' _when you get off stag, first floor 2_ _nd_ _door on the right. Rika.'_

Coppers smirked and shoved the note into a pocket and continued on. As he crossed the houses' threshold he was blasted by the cold night air. The sun had set and the shrouded the whole settlement in blackness. The night sky was crystal clear and the moon was out and stars shimmering; a good night for stag.

Coppers crossed the compound and reached the stag point, a scissor lift that was raised to the correct height so it was just in cover behind the top of the wall, and had a ladder leaning against it up to the platform. Coppers climbed up the ladder and joined the bloke on stag already, the black haired man with the M24 from earlier.

"All right mate?" asked Coppers as he climbed the last rung and joined him on the platform.

"Konbanwa," greeted the man. He offered Coppers a hand, which Coppers duly shook with the appropriate level of vigour. "Kohta Takagi."

"Mike Gallagher. Call me Coppers."

"Coppers?" asked Kohta, confused by the nickname.

"Red hair," Coppers replied by way of an explanation. "So, how is it? Quiet?"

Kohta passed an "Ohh…" in realisation before continuing; "Yeah it's quiet out there, normally is. We only really see the occasional deer, _they_ 're pretty rare up here. The ones that showed up today were the first we've seen in a few days."

"Fair enough," said Coppers, scanning the treeline though his C8's scope. Having detected nothing, he pulled out Snor's borrowed night vision set and handed it to Kohta.

"Here," he said, "they'll help."

"Wow! Thanks," said Kohta eagerly as he put on the headset and lowered the monocular over his left eye. "Wow, this is cool!"

"Yeah," said Coppers, slightly amused at Kohta's excitement. He remembered the first time he'd been shown the kit and he'd had the same sense of wonder Kohta had. Copper's mind suddenly returned business when a thought crossed his mind.

"What about marauders?" he asked.

Kohta's excitement at the night vision diminished. "Yeah, there are some."

"Near here?"

"Sort of," said Kohta. "They're somewhere in the east Fuji manoeuvre area."

"Do you know where?" asked Coppers. Kohta shook his head.

"No, and they don't know where we are either," he replied. "We came across them when we tried to scavenge from the bases main armoury. They want it and we want it, but neither of us can get in, it's locked down tight. Same for the magazine, supply buildings and motor pool."

He paused as he shifted his M24, "We scavenged this, our other weapons and our Humvees from dead soldiers and around the base. We would have got more, but the other group showed up and ordered us to leave. They had us out gunned so we did," He smiled and grunted amusingly. "Guess they don't have us out gunned anymore."

"That they don't," said Coppers, "and I guarantee we'll be going back sooner than later. Command's gonna want a military base full of guns, ammo and supplies before anyone else can get their hands on it. With any luck, we'll get it and get the pick of the lot."

"Ohh…" fantasised Kohta, "what I wouldn't give for an M82…" Coppers shook his head amused.

"Barrett's are overrated mate," he said. "Sure, they're great fun to shoot. But they weigh a tonne, you can only carry so many rounds and everything for 20 miles will hear ya. Plus, you don't want to have to tab, run and fight with one. Same for the AW50, or any other fifty cal really."

"But High explosive rounds…" suggested Kohta knowingly. Coppers nodded furiously in agreement.

"High ex-rounds are bae. Expensive, but bae."

The two spent the next few hours talking guns and general military stuff while keeping a vigilant watch for anything hostile, before at about 02:00, Takashi and Tigger came out to relieve them. Coppers and Kohta handed over their night vision before heading back to the house. Kohta bade Coppers goodnight and disappeared off to his room.

Coppers waited until he heard his door closing before pulling out Rika's note again. He read it over again before following its directions and finding himself, outside a bedroom door with light seeping out from inside under the door. He knocked lightly on it and waited.

"Come in," said a voice from inside that he recognised as Rika's. He opened to door and stepped inside.

The room was dominated by a large double bed in the middle of the room. Among the dishevelled quilts, Rika and Shizuka were waiting for him and both were quite clearly wearing nothing but the quilt which covered them. Rika smirked at Coppers, who was still standing in full combats in the door.

"You seemed a little-overdressed trooper. Why don't you lose the combats and join us? We still owe you for bringing us together again." She said sweeping back the covers and revealing what was beneath. Coppers shrugged off his webbing and dropped his rifle.

"Yes ma'am," He said as he started unlacing his boots and Rika and Shizuka started crawling down the bed towards him giggling.

…

 **Forward Patrol Base Charlie  
D-Day+28  
08:00**

Captain Griffin looked down at the form on his desk. He'd been expecting this. He'd been preparing for it the moment the marines had got back to patrol base Charlie.

A few moments earlier, OC Young had knocked on the door of his office and asked for his signature on a form. Griffin was unsurprised to find it was a transfer request form, specifically to the posting of liaison officer for the ' _Companions Rest'._

"Why?"

"Sir?" asked Young, confused by the one-word question.

"Why?" repeated Griffin, "Why do you want a transfer suddenly? Are you unhappy here?"

"No sir…"

"Are you dissatisfied with being attached to me for your field training?"

"No…"

"SO YOUR QUITTING! IS THAT IT CADET? YOUR COPPING OUT BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO BE A ROYAL MARINE COMMANDO! OR BECAUSE YOUR TOO GOOD TO WEAR OUR BERET?!"

"NO SIR!" Young shouted, inwardly furious that Griffin would even dare to suggest such a thing. "I am good enough! And I'm no quitter! Sir!"

"Then why?" Griffin asked again, more forcefully. "Why do you want a transfer to, what is effectively, a rear echelon position?"

"It's not because I'm afraid of dying, sir," replied Young shortly. "And it's not because I'm afraid to kill either, I've proven that twice on two different bridges. I can kill undead, I proved that beyond any doubt at Tokonosu bridge! I can kill people, I've proved that that just the other day! I can do it! And I'm damn good at it!" He paused for a moment.

"But I don't want to kill," He continued, earning a raised eyebrow from Griffin. "I joined the military to save lives, not take them. Now, I can kill undead all day, hell I bet I can do it quicker, quieter and better than you Captain. But It's not what I want to do. I came to help people, and I can do that better running training, supplies and ops at a survivor colony rather than behind a rifle. That's why I want a transfer, sir."

Griffin studied Young carefully. The man was no longer stood at sharp attention like a gold star cadet, he was hunched over, right foot back, shoulder rolled forwards, and his hands clenched into fists. No, the man before Griffin now, was angry, a fighter… a commando.

"Alright," said Griffin calmly, rocking back in his padded office chair. "It's yours if you can convince me of one thing."

"Yes, sir?" asked Young, prepared for another inquisition into his abilities as a soldier.

"This isn't because of that woman, Saeko, is it?" Griffin asked.

"No sir," Young replied, evenly. Griffin knew that was a lie. He'd heard the stories from his friend, Yamato when they'd rescued them. He knew Young and Saeko were close, and he knew that that it was her, not his deceased mother, father or sister, that he kept a picture of in his helmet. Griffin stood up.

"I don't like being lied to _cadet,"_ He said slowly, almost spitting the word 'cadet'.

"It's not a lie, sir," Young retaliated, sounding as unconvinced as Griffin was. Young sighed. "I won't deny it, sir. Yes she's dear to me. She was my best friend and I'm over the fucking moon happy to see she's still alive. But she's moved on, we've both grown up and she's married. So, no sir, this is _not_ because of Saeko. Although the fact that she knows and trusts me makes me the ideal candidate to be their logistical officer. Sir."

Griffin stared at Young, before smiling and sinking back into his chair.

"Very well," he said, to Young's total bafflement. Griffin pulled out a pen and signed the relevant section of the form before he pulled open a drawer and removed something before dropping it on the desk. Young stared at it. It was a commando's green beret. Griffin also reached into his trouser pocket and removed a pair of green rank slides, each with a black pip in the middle, the rank slide of a Second Lieutenant.

"After the incident at the bridge with those strongholds, I put you in for a battlefield commission," explained Griffin. "I also stated in my report that there was nothing more that I could teach you that you wouldn't learn from first-hand experience. I got word that Field Marshall Davies signed off on it last night." Griffin stood up.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant Young."

Chris was beside himself, before coming to his senses. He removed his old black commando recruits beret and swapped it for the famous, much-coveted commandos green beret. He also snatched up his new rank slides and snapped to attention and snapping a smart salute to Griffin who returned it.

"Now I suggest you start packing Lieutenant," Said Griffin. He picked up and waved the transfer form. "I'll get this squared away."

"Thank you, sir," replied Young. He passed a more casual salute before turning to leave.

"And Chris," said Griffin, just as the newly minted officer was about to cross the threshold of his office. Young turned back to face him. Griffin nodded to the beret.

"It's harder to keep, than earn."

* * *

 **Hello! I hope you all had a good Christmas,** **glad to see no one started world war 3 while I was on holiday!**

 **Anyway, between mad exam revision, mad student parties (seriously, you should see the photos!), mad parents and more made exam revision, I wrote you a chapter, aren't I generous?**

 **Let me know what you think. If you have any questions or suggestions do PM me, I reply to them as quick as I can. And seriously, please review more. You have no idea how much joy I get when I see an email in my inbox which says " Review: Operation: Archangel'. And it's my birthday in a few days (at time of posting),**

 **Well here's a new chapter for you, don't expect another until February, a nice little thing called 'end of semester exams', I'm sure more than a few of you know what I mean and those that are too young to have done so, something to look forward to.**

 **Anyway, happy new year.**

 **Jango**


	10. Chapter 9

**Operation: Archangel**

 **Chapter 9**

 **Companions Rest  
Z-day + 2968  
D-Day+32  
09:00**

After spending a few days of briefings and training at Camp Wellington, the newly minted Lieutenant Young was signed off as Companion rest's new liaison officer and dispatched with his combat gear, some purchases he'd made from the NAFFI and 'Gucci' store and a Land Rover WMIK.

After a few hours of driving, he arrived at the gate of Companions Rest. They opened the gate and he drove right in and parked next to a line of 3 dark green Humvees, a mechanic going from Jeep to Jeep checking each truck. He shut the land rover down and got out, grabbing his L85 and swords off the passenger seat before retrieving his day sack, Bergan and black grip bag off the back seat. He barely made it 3 steps before someone called;

"Chris Young?"

Chris looked around for a moment, trying to find who called him. He expected it to be Saeko calling him but instead found a beautiful woman in her mid-20's with long ginger hair and orange eyes, dressed in a white shirt, jeans and walking boots walking towards him.

'Well… damn…' He thought. Before quickly dispelling the less than Christian thought from his head. "Um, yes ma'am. That's me."

"Welcome," she said, stopping just short of him and bowing. "I'm Rei Miyamoto. Takashi sent me to come meet you and show you to your room."

"Oh, thank you, ma'am," Young said, wriggling his Bergan up so it sat more firmly on his shoulder.

"Can I carry something for you?" She asked, indicating to one of his numerous bags.

"Oh, no thank you, ma'am, I've got it," Chris replied. Rei giggled slightly as she turned and headed towards the house.

"Don't call me ma'am, you make me feel like my mother. Call me Rei."

Chris just cocked a smile and started following. She led him through to the back of the house to a room on the ground floor just off from the main living area. She opened the door and led him into a medium sized bedroom with a futon in the corner, a foot locker and a shoji sliding door to the back garden. By way of a workspace, there was a shelving unit with a few files on it, a desk and a wheelie chair. Chris stepped in and set his bags down, rolling his shoulders slightly.

"I hope this is to your liking," Rei said. Chris nodded.

"This'll do great, thank you," he said. Rei seemed like she was about to ask something when Saeko stepped in the doorway.

"Ohayo Chris-San, Rei-san," she said.

Chris clocked that suddenly Rei's behaviour suddenly changed. She almost jumped when Saeko spoke and suddenly wasn't the same incredibly hot, smiling young woman she was a second ago. Now there seemed to be something almost resembling a mild resentment in the air.

"Ohayo, Saeko-san," said Chris, greeting his old friend with a smile.

"Please excuse me," said Rei, bowing to Chris before leaving the room slightly quicker than would be considered normal.

"Well… she was nice," said Chris.

"Yes, she is," Saeko replied, smirked at him with a knowing smile.

"Don't bother trying to play matchmaker with me Saeko," Chris smirked at her. "Remember what happened last time?"

"Ah yes," laughed Saeko, "your date with Hinata-san. Remind me, how did it go again?"

"She beat the crap out of me with her Shinai," sighed Chris. "Did you come here to remind me of my past romantic failings? Or can I do something for you?"

"Actually, I came to tell you," she said, her hand falling to the hilt of her sword. "We and your SAS friends are planning a supply raid to the East Fuji Manoeuvre Area, it was a big SDF and American military camp just to the south of here. If you want to come along, the briefing is at 10."

"Sure, I'm up for that," said Chris. "Anything, in particular, we're focusing on?"

"Guns and ammunition, I believe," said Saeko. "Maybe parts for the Humvees as well. I believe Saya has a full list. Oh, that reminds me, she and the other heads of certain areas want to come over and talk to you about things. Training, getting things they need etcetera."

"Sure anytime," said Chris. "Now I better get unpacked and ready for a fight."

"Of course, please excuse me," said Saeko, bowing to him before leaving him alone to unpack.

…

About half an hour later, Chris emerged from his room/office and headed to the briefing point. He'd changed his combat gear slightly since leaving the 42 commando, (technically he was still a member of 42 commando, just on detached duty.) He still had his Virtus issue body armour, but he'd exchanged the standard issue flip up magazine pouches for CQB mag pouches; MOLLE fronted and opened topped with bungee fastenings, he could draw his now Magpul fitted magazines faster to reload his rifle quicker while also having his grenades and pistol magazine pouches closer to hand. He had also invested in a dump pouch which hung over his back side next to his swords. Also, for this mission, he'd forgone his helmet in place of a lighter jungle hat and had a camouflage scrim scarf tied around his neck.

As he walked towards the meeting point, it dawned on him that he was a walking definition of the phrase 'armed to the teeth.' After all, he was carrying his L85 with 300 rounds ready hand for it plus another 180 in an emergency bandoleer in the day sack slung on his back, his Sig 226 with 3 mags for that, 2 frag grenades, 2 smokes and his Fairbairn-Sykes before you got to his Katana and Wakizashi.

As he approached, the SAS captain and others looked up and smiled at him.

"You think you've got enough weapons there Lieutenant?" asked Tigger with an amused smile.

"You think I should go get some more sir?" replied Chris. Everyone chuckled slightly before Griffin continued to explain the plan with a map splayed across the bonnet of one of the Humvees.

"Alright," said Tigger. "Rika, Kohta, Saya, Sachi and I will role in Humvee 1, call sign hotel one. Oz, Snorlax, Raiden, Takashi and Saeko in Hotel 2. Coppers, Young, Mariko, Kenji, Kazuto in Hotel 3. We'll rock up, secure the area, Overwatch, i.e. Rika, Archer and Kohta, will establish in these buildings here and cover us while Oz and Snorlax open up the armoury. Once we've got our guns and ammo, we'll raid the motor pool and supplies for whatever we can cram into the Humvees."

"And how are you going to get the armoury open?" asked Raiden sceptically. "We tried with crowbars all day and it wouldn't budge."

"Oz?" asked Tigger, turning to their Australian explosives expert. Oz smirked and held up a large rod that looked like welding equipment.

"Thermic lance," he said. "That'll burn through the door's hinges and then we'll hit it with the breaching charge." The SAS and Young smirked at the Japanese adult's faces.

"You mean…" Kohta said wide-eyed and excited. "Bang, bang boom?"

"More like fizz, bang boom," said Oz with a smirk. "But basically, yes."

"That's going to get the attention of the people who live there," cautioned Saya, she turned to Takashi. "What happens when they turn up wanting all the weapons?" Takashi thought for a moment.

"We try to reason with them." He said sternly, "but if that fails…" They all knew what he meant, but Tigger put it into words.

"We drop 'em. Dead them is better than dead us," he said. He looked at his watch. "Alright, I make it 10:05. Grab what you need and roll in 10:15. Boss?"

"Sound's good," said Takashi. "Let's go."

…

 **Sea of Japan  
Z-day + 2968  
D-Day+32  
10:00**

"Captain on the bridge!"

"Where's our target?" asked Meres as he walked over to the Mai's chair

"I hold our target 26 degrees of the starboard bow. Heading 050, depth 100 meters, speed 20 knots. Looks like she's going for the Tsugaru Straits sir," reported Mai. Meres patted Mai on the shoulder for his diligent work and sat in his trusty, leather padded command chair.

Something was off. That was what Meres, and probably the rest of the bridge crew, was thinking. A Russian submarine, that had fired on and shot down a British fighter jet was running. Nothing odd in that, but why were they running north to Hokkaido? Why not make a break for Vladivostok? Or China, maybe even North Korea? It might not have been as remote as Sado Island but it would be out of immediate strike range of any aircraft the task force brought with them, and it would be a hell of a lot harder for Meres to get permission to pursue a Russian submarine across the Sea of Japan, back into Russian waters.

"Sir… I've got something," said Mai, his hands were pressing on his headphones, concentrating hard on the feedback he was getting from Ambush's microphones.

"The Akula?" asked Meres. Mai shook his head.

"No... This is different contact," Mai replied. Meres and every other member of the bridge crew sat up a little straighter as Mai continued to speak. "It's a sub alright, I can hear its prop kicking off the bottom. It's coming down from the north. I don't recognise the prop signature. I'll run it through the database, standby."

'Another Russian sub?' Thought Meres, 'ones bad, two… that's a problem.'

"I've got an ID… What the hell?" Mai spun in his seat to face the captain. "It's Jap."

"What?" said Meres disbelievingly, standing up from his chair and walking over to Mai's station as Mai fervently reran the search.

"Confirmed sir," said Mai. "It's a _Sōryū_ -class Diesel electric attack sub." Mai spun his chair around to face his captain.

"Sir, I thought the Japs said they didn't have any subs left?"

"They don't."

Meres initial instinct was to hail them, but to do so would tip off the Akula that they were there. For now, it was best to wait and see. "Put the boat on quiet one. Continue tracking both targets."

"Aye, sir," came the reply from the crew. Throughout the sub, the crew started shutting down none essential equipment to make the silent _Ambush_ even quieter. But as he sat back down in his command chair, Meres could feel a sinking feeling in his stomach. The same feeling as he'd had while on patrol off Cyprus…

…

 **East Fuji Manoeuvre Area  
D-Day+32  
11:23**

"Hey, Oz. Do me a favour?" Coppers asked.

" _What?"_ asked Oz over the comms.

"Put some 60's and .50cals on the shopping list."

" _Why?_ " Tigger cut in on the comms, knowing full well why. " _Feeling the need for superior firepower?_ "

"No boss," replied Coppers. "I feel the need for something to grab on to while on top cover with Mrs Takagi driving!"

" _You're welcome to walk back Baka!"_ Saya shouted back at him as everyone on the channel laughed at Saya berating an SAS operator. Coppers shook his head and resettled his head to his rifle sight and switched his comms to the sniper team's channel, although he didn't move the switch quite far enough and didn't see it snap back to the team channel.

"That's some wife you've got there Kohta," He said.

 _"I know,"_ Kohta replied. _"And I wouldn't trade her for all the supermodels of the pre-fall world."_

" _You sure about that?"_ Rika cut in. Even though she was in another building, they could tell she was smiling by her tone. _"_ _There_ _were some pretty hot supermodels back then…"_

 _"Oh, I know there were,"_ Kohta said in a matter-of-fact voice. _"My mother was a fashion designer before the fall, and she used to take me to loads of fashion shows when I was little. She stopped taking me after she realised how much 'attention' I was paying to the models."_

"And how did the pink demonette take it when you told her?" asked Coppers with a sly smile.

 _"She laughed,"_ Kohta said. _"And besides, those supermodels may be hot, but most were just shallow people. Saya's… different._ The young man paused for a moment before continuing.

" _The first day of school, when she walked into the room it was like a goddess had arrived. All the guys were staring at her, but she just walked past them like they were not there. I couldn't take my eyes off her. Finally, she looked at me and said, "What!? Don't stare it's rude!"_

Coppers laughed as he envisioned the encounter in his mind. "So, what did you do?" he asked.

 _"Well, I bowed down low and introduced myself!"_ Kohta said with a laugh. _"Stuttering a lot I might add! She glared at me for a second, then nodded and said, Takagi Saya. Then she noticed Takashi coming in the door and went over to chastise him for something."_

"Shot down?" Coppers said with a smirk as he heard Rika laugh.

" _In flames,"_ Kohta confirmed amusedly. _"I never though then she would one day be my wife. I'm so lucky."_

" _Of course, you are!"_ Saya cut in. _"And don't you ever forget it!"_

" _Yes dear,"_ Kohta replied with a snicker. Coppers just shook his head despairingly. Young love… it was both beautiful and sickening to behold. Coppers put his eye back to his scope and continued to scan the road he was covering for trouble. He didn't have to wait long.

Within a few minutes, a group of nine locals armed with an assortment of military assault rifles appeared out of the woods at the end of the road, accompanied by a military Humvee with a .50 cal on top and another local manning it. Coppers ranged his scope on the greatest threat; the .50 cal gunner and pressed his radio.

"Bravo four to all callsigns. I have visual on some 9 armed local occupants. Six Assualt rifles various, two light gunners, one SMG, and Humvee with fitted large calibre. Heading towards objective from the South."

Down on the ground, Tigger's heart stopped a moment. "Copy Bravo four. All callsigns stand too," he responded. Everyone around him started moving. Work on the armoury door ceased as Oz and Snorlax shut off the blow torches and grabbed their C8 carbines. Saya, Takashi and Raiden readied their weapons and took cover behind the Humvees while Saeko loosened her katana in its scabbard and Young flicked the safety off his L85 and rested it on the bonnet of a Humvee.

Tigger ran through his options in his head.

First order of business was stopping the Humvee; give his sniper an easy chance to pick off the threat at long range. But that would more than likely kick everything off, and give them time to fan out and scatter and make the group a far more difficult problem to deal with. He needed to buy time.

"Zero Alpha to Bravo four. Silent shot. Pop one of the Humvee's tyres. Copy?"

"Roger, WILCO. Out," Copper said, settling the sights of his L115A3 on the front left tyre, leading slightly.

He flicked the safety off before slowly applying his finger to the trigger, letting it settle before taking a long-measured breath. He held it and then applied balanced pressure to the trigger. A sonic crack as the Lapua .338 round exited the suppressor; rattled what was left of the broken window's around Coppers as the audible shockwave. The round streaked downwards on a perfectly flat trajectory, covering the 650 meters to the target almost instantly, before hitting the tyre and deflating it. The Humvee rose up slightly before dropping down onto it's exposed metal wheels, creating sparks on the road as its driver struggled to halt the vehicle.

"Bravo four to Zero Alpha. Confirmed hit. Humvee disabled. Over," Coppers calmly reported as he cycled his rifle's bolt to de-chamber the spent round and load the next one.

" _Rog' bravo four. All snipers keep eyes on targets and hold fire."_

"Roger that. Out," Coppers replied.

The snipers watched as the group gathered around the Humvee, kicking the flattened tyre in frustration. Judging by the fact that none of them was panicking, running for cover or shooting at his general direction; Coppers knew the sound of the engine must have covered the crack from his rifle. A few of them argued for a moment before the apparent leader, a man in a red puffer Jacket and carrying an M4, ordered the group forward again and they continued on their way while the driver and gunner got out and started to remove tools and a spare wheel from the boot.

"Bravo four to Zero Alpha. Hostiles have abandoned the technical and continuing towards your position. Gunner and driver are changing the wheel, over," Coppers reported.

" _Copy Bravo four. Good work,"_ Tigger replied, before quickly resuming his own preparations for what might very rapidly turn into a _very_ hairy firefight against 20 militia-esk hostiles with 3 SAS troopers on the ground and a load of experienced but untrained militia of his own.

" _Copy Bravo four. All callsigns prepare for contact. Wait for my order to fire. We don't want to kick this off too early."_

None of the seasoned SAS operators wouldn't admit it, but they were gaging for a proper fight. It had been a little too much sneaking through woods and back allies, stealth killing undead in the dead of night and 'contactless recce'. And despite being professionals, every once in a while, all they wanted was a proper ' _suns out guns out, bare balls full auto Christ-knowns-how-many-rounds-a-minute'_ gunfight.

But not today, they had the civvies to take care of… even though they could probably more than handle themselves. Tigger skirted down the line of Humvees towards Takashi. It was his op for his people after all.

"How'd you want to play it?" Tigger asked, dropping to a knee next to him.

Takashi thought for a moment before replying, "We'll try and talk it out. But if it goes bad. Kill them."

Tigger nodded, it was probably the best call; diplomacy face to face. Not what he would have gone with personally, but if they'd had his way the hostiles would be dead already.

Takashi and Tigger stood up and walked out from behind the Humvees. Standing in the open waiting for them to appear.

Tigger took the moment to give Takashi a last-minute pep talk. "Listen. Be calm. You're in charge, we're just the hired muscle. If you want us to kick it off, just turn around and start back towards the Humvees. But if things go sidewise, hit the deck and get back to the Humvees. Make sure you get out and we'll do our thing. Then we can all go home to tea and medals. Clear?"

"Clear," Takashi said. Tigger nodded. Somehow, it seemed Takashi had done this before…

Then they arrived. The group stopped opposite Takashi and Tigger. They looked surprised; clearly not expecting to come face to face with a fully camouflaged, armoured and armed special forces operator. The leader, however, glared at Takashi and everyone else behind the Humvees.

"You again?" He spat incredulously at Takashi. "We told you last time! Hands off our guns!"

"You don't have them so they aren't yours," Takashi replied, not even faltering at the older man. "But we're willing to negotiate."

Tigger mentally knew that wasn't going to happen, but was more than secure in the fact that if this joker even looked at either of them funny, Snorlax, Coppers, Oz or anyone of the people behind them would either turn them to red mist or slice them into finely chopped parts.

"And who is he?" The leader asked, pointing at Tigger. Tigger stared at him with the sort of unswerving assertiveness that one would expect from an SAS trained killing machine.

"United Nations. British Army," Tigger replied.

The man started at Tigger. Tigger stared back. He walked up to Tigger, a smirk of disbelief on his face.

"And what is the _'United Nations'_ doing helping a bunch of thief's, gaijin?" he asked sneeringly.

Tigger wasn't fazed. "Helping them recover JSDF arms on the orders of the JSDF," he replied. "But I'm not here to talk. Talk to the man in charge, and let's get this over with so you can go back to whatever abandoned piss stained hovel you came from," he said with menace in his voice.

Tigger took a step back, readjusting the weight of his C8 in his hand. He had to stop himself smirking in satisfaction at the man's face, especially when he saw his fully booted and suited C8 carbine with M203 'boom tube' attached. And he was damned if he, a member of the _SAS_ , was going to be pushed around by a jumped-up office worker with a rifle.

The man sneered and turned back towards Takashi. "I want you off our land," he said. "They are _our_ weapons." He glared sidewise at Tigger. "Now leave _yours_ and go while _I_ still allow it."

"That's not going to happen," Takashi said, tightening the grip on his shotgun. Tigger slipped the safety of his C8. This was all going to shit. Fast.

The man was furious. Clearly, he was used to getting his way. "I'll say it again one more time," He said through gritted teeth. "Leave your weapons and go."

Takashi sighed but didn't answer. He just turned and walked back towards the Humvees.

Game on.

The leader, furious, screamed; "Bastard!" but didn't get any further than raising his weapon. Tigger was far faster on the draw and in a flash, had his C8 up and in his shoulder, and dropped the man with a double tap to the chest. Before anyone could react, he turned, grabbed Takashi and screamed;

"GO LOUD!"

In the momentary confusion, the SAS opened fire. Spitting near silent death from their C8's as their leader threw Takashi behind a Humvee and rolled into cover himself. The other hostiles started yelling instructions at each other in Japanese, firing their weapons on full auto at the Humvees forcing the SAS into cover, but trio of supersonic cracks rang out as the sniper's opened fire from their building Copper's opening salvo had burst the head of one of the LMG gunner's like a water balloon, while Rika and Kohta dropped the other one with well-placed shots into their centre mass, leaving nothing but an uncontrollable death rattle of muscle to signal the previous owner's demise.

Tigger popped up and fired off his 203, sending a 40mm grenade towards where a group of them were shooting blindly from around the cover of a building.

"Bravo Two! Bravo Three! On me!" He shouted.

"Boss!" Snorlax and Oz shouted before emerging from cover and followed their leader to hunt down the runners.

Another burst of muzzle flash emanated from the corner of a building, and the SAS dove against the wall. Tigger nodded at Snorlax. He nodded and pulled a frag from his pouch, before pulling the pin and casually tossing it around the corner like a ball for a dog. The 'nade detonated and more screaming started, before being silenced by a burst of suppressed gunfire from the emerged troopers.

Tigger did a quick body count. 3 in front of him, the leader, the two gunners, and one more dropped on the opening salvo. That left the three still up…

A shotgun blast and a burst of unsuppressed rifle fire sounded out and more screaming came up from the Humvees. Tigger cursed himself for leaving the civvies unprotected. He, Oz and Snor sprinted back, running up expecting to find someone wounded… but only found 3 more dead hostiles. One was a victim of Takashi's shotgun, Lieutenant Young stood over the second with the muzzle of his L85 smoking. The third… was in pieces with Saeko standing by with her bloody Katana.

"Snipers! Drop the two by the Humvee!" Tigger ordered into the comm. Two more supersonic cracks rang out.

" _Target's down."_

"Clear?" Tigger called.

"Clear!" Shouted Snorlax, followed by Oz, Coppers, Rika and Lieutenant Young all confirming the same.

"No injuries?" called Tigger. There were none. "Right then, back to work everyone."

The Japanese were stunned for a moment as the British simply reloaded their weapons and went back to work. The silence was only broken by as Saya began to inspect the Humvees.

"Baka's! You got our Humvee's shot up!"

* * *

 **I'm back baby!**

 **Ok, it took 3 months longer than I originally expected... blame essays and exams! No idea when the next one will be out. Probably early summer knowing my workload.**

 **As ever please review, favourite & follow so as to keep yourselves aprised of new updates and I'll see you next time.**

 **Jango**


	11. Chapter 10

**Operation: Archangel**

 **Chapter 10**

 **Companions rest  
** **Z-day + 2968  
D-Day+32  
20:36**

"Ok, I've sorted it," Chris said as he put the sat phone he'd been talking on for the last hour down on its charging stand. "They're expecting you close of play tomorrow. Catch a lift back with the engineers and they'll get you there."

"Thank you so much!" Kohta was beaming, like a kid who'd been handed his parent's credit card at the toy store and told to 'go nuts'.

"I better go pack." He said as he stood to leave.

"Take the AR-10." Chris suggested, "Maybe they've got a new barrel and carrier assembly knocking around."

Kohta nodded and practically skipped out of Chris' office, nearly colliding with Rei as she entered the room.

"Hirano-san seems to be happy." She noted, looking at where the group's gun expert had been.

"I just got him on an army armourer's course," Chris said as he shuffled some paperwork around his desk before turning his undivided attention to Rei. "And what can I do for you this evening Miyamoto-san?" Rei took a seat at the chair Kohta had just vacated just a few moments earlier.

"I was wondering what courses you had that I could go on." She said. It was the second most common question that people coming into Chris' office had. The most common was from Kohta and Saya's son Daichi, asking if he was old enough to join the army yet. Chris opened a drawer on his desk and produced a booklet and handed it to Rei.

"That's a list of all the courses we teach to safezones." He said, "Everything from firearms instruction to agriculture to childbirth, take a look and let me know which you want. But it may have to be in a week or so."

"Why?" Rei asked, cocking her head slightly.

"A lot of people are heading off on courses tomorrow," Chris explained. "Kohta, Shizuka and Raiden are going for courses. Rika and the SAS are off to god knows where to do god knows what tonight and Saeko is going to see her father's samurai. We're just going to be short staffed and we don't want to leave home under protected."

"Ah." She said, before her face suddenly looked uncomfortable. She stood and bowed and turned to leave before stopping in her tracks.

"Young-san," She said hesitantly. "Can I ask? How do you know Busujima-chan?"

"Saeko?" Chris asked. He kicked back and laughed. "Saeko and I go way back. I've known her since I was 6. We played together, we trained together, we fought together and on occasion…" He paused, smirking at the memory. "We got in trouble together."

Rei put her hand over her mouth to try and hide her surprise. "She got in trouble?!"

"Oh, she, Yamato and I got arrested for holding up an arcade in downtown Tokyo once!" Chris laughed. "Her father was furious!"

Rei watched him laugh at the memory, judging his reaction before asking another question.

"Did you love her?"

Chris stopped laughing and looked at her plainly.

"Yes."

"Do you still?"

"Yes." He said, "Differently but yes.

Rei's brow furled. "So what do you think about Takashi?"

Chris sighed, before motioning for her to close the door and sit down. As she did, he went over to his kit bag and removed two metal tin bugs and a large flask, before returning to the desk and pouring an inch of brown amber liquid from the flask into each mug and slid one over to Rei before taking a hefty sip from his own.

"Saeko was the closest thing I had to a sister." He said. "My mum died when I was born and I was an only child, something we have in common…" He took another sip from his drink before continuing. "Every summer, we were together and spoke on skype every day the rest of the year. We were inseparable."

"As we got older, and I discovered girls and she discovered boys, it was her father who gave us 'the talk'. Over time, I started to develop a crush on Saeko." He looked up at Rei. "You remember what your first crush was like, right?"

Rei nodded, she remembered her crush on Takashi all too well.

"Well, when I was 15, I finally summoned up the courage to ask her out." He said, "I just had really bad timing, my friend Yamato asked at the exact same time I did." He smirked. "Saeko didn't know where to look. We spent the next months trying to one up each other for her affections."

"Did you win?" Rei asked, taking a sip of the almond scented drink.

"No, neither of us did," Chris said. "Eventually Saeko's father caught wind of it and shut us down, hard. He said that Yamato and I had disgraced ourselves, letting our personal feelings drive a wedge between us and left it to Saeko to settle the matter then and there. She said that she loved us both and were the closest thing's to brothers that she ever had, but didn't like either of us any more than that." He took another sip.

"She let us down easy, but it still hurt like a kick in the balls."

Rei studied the despaired look on his face, wondering if it was anything like what she'd put Takashi through as he continued.

"When the undead came, I wasn't worried about my father. I was worried about Saeko, Yamato and Master Busujima. They were my closest friends and family, and I was trapped on the other side of the world, unable to help them…"

He refilled his mug and downed half of it. He was on the verge of tears.

"I didn't know if they were alive. I had no way to contact them… All I could do was hope and pray…" He took a deep breath and composed himself before continuing.

"When I heard the marines were going to Japan and that we were landing in Tokonosu, I was overjoyed. I hoped to find Saeko at her father's Dojo but was heartbroken when Yamato said she'd never been there. I'd more or less given her up for dead until I came here, and found her… I've never been happier."

He took another sip and composed himself again.

"As for Takashi…" He said, "well… no one likes to see another man with the woman you love. But… I see the way Saeko looks at him. It's how I wished she'd look at me." He sighed. "She loves him, that's just something I'll have to live with. He seems like a nice guy and I see the way he looks at her. But…"

He looked Rei in the eye with a cold stare.

"If he ever hurts her… if he ever does anything to put her in danger… they'll never find what's left of him."

"He won't," Rei said, looking down at her mug of amber liquid before taking a sip.

"It all started back in kindergarten…"

…

 **Hokodate harbour  
Z-day + 2968  
D-Day+32  
22:36**

"Oh… shit."

"My thought's exactly Lieutenant." Meers agreed as he and the bridge crew took in what was on the main view screen.

Over the last few hours, Ambush had stealthily slipped into the port of Hokodate, having tracked the Akula and the more recently discovered Sōryū to the harbour. But as they'd gotten closer to the harbour, the number of passive sonar contacts they'd picked up had dramatically increased, so much so that they'd struggled to track the subs through it all.

But once the crew were certain that Hokodate was where they were going, and that there was no way out without _Ambush_ detecting them, and with darkness having long since blackened the sky's and oceans, Captain Meers had ordered _Ambush_ to periscope depth so they could make a visual assessment of the situation.

What they found, was far more than two submarines…

The harbour was packed. As well as the two submarines they'd tracked, there were three more: a Chinese _Type 91_ and a pair of _Chang Bogo_ class submarines of the South Korean Navy. As well as the subs, there were surface ships of all types and sizes; cargo ships, tug boats, Tankers, yachts, seagoing trawlers, car and passenger ferry's, naval minesweepers and destroyers from numerous pan-Asian countries, but worst of all… the former flagship or the Russian pacific fleet: the guided missile cruiser _Varyag._

The congregation of naval firepower was deeply concerning. Even though the British out fleet outnumbered them, this fleet could easily devastate, maybe even destroy the task force in its entirety. Especially as, judging by the number lights on both the ships and shore and the amount of harbour activity, the port of Hokodate was fully secure and active.

Of more concern to Meers and his crew, was that it would take just one look out to spot their coke-can size periscope to raise the alarm, then they would be alone in facing the full fury of that fleet. They might get a salvo of Spearfish torpedoes away, maybe even some Tomahawk missiles, but even _Ambush_ , arguably the most powerful and deadly submarine ever built, couldn't win against them all.

Meers spoke softly, carefully and calmly issuing orders to his crew who were all within a razor's edge of losing their nerve.

"Helm, come about, slowly. Take us out back into the straights, position us so we can still monitor the fleet, but disappear if necessary."

"Aye, sir."

"Ops, order the SBS to ready up, full dive gear, and standby."

"Yes, sir."

"Comms, once were out of range, send a message to taskforce HQ, inform them of our find and status and request further orders."

"Sir!"

"Engineering, keep the reactors quiet and prepare to launch sonar buoys. If any of those ships move, I want to know about it."

"On it sir."

Meers straightened his uniform and addressed the whole bridge crew.

"We've gotten out of worse situations. Remain calm, and we'll get out of this one too." He said, trying to channel the stoic calm that British officers were known, somewhat stereotypically, for. The crew did not reply but just went about their duties. Aside from the occasional confirmation or order into a headset, the room was a silent as a chess tournament as _Ambush_ began its slow 180-degree turn.

Meers couldn't help but wonder though, who his words were meant to reassure? Them? Or him?

…

 **Z-day + 2969  
D-Day+33  
07:36**

A combination of warm futons, good food, and intermittent threesomes with two hot women probably wasn't the prep for a crack of dawn drive across a zombie infested Japan, in a scavenged transit van whose suspension was rusted to hell.

"Looking a little green their mate." Oz said with a grin. "should we pull over and let ya out?" Coppers glared across at the troops adopted Australian, before smirking and putting on his worse possible Australian accent;

"Go fuck a dingo you Ozzy bastard." He replied, giving the man a single finger salute. The back of the van filled with laughter, inviting Snorlax to open the sliding hatch into the back.

"Oi, keep it down in there! Some of us are tryin' to drive here!" He said in his thick Glaswegian brogue.

"Sorry, Snor," Oz replied, pointing at Coppers across the van. "Just sayin that to Coppers 'ere is looking slightly worse for wear."

"I'm not surprised!" Coppers said replied with an amused snort. "You weren't up all night shagging Rika and her mate!"

"O'aye," Oz said with a smirk as he and Snorlax went into song;

" _He shags who he wants! He shags who he wants! Our mate Coppers! He shag's who he wants!"_

"Fuck off…" Coppers said with a tired sigh. Rika chuckled to herself at her boy toy's dilemma.

"I think you've found your soulmate, Mike." Snorlax said as the laughter wound down.

Rika and Coppers shared a look.

"How do you figure that?" Coppers asked.

"Sniper, nice rack, has a busty friend who's up for threesomes. Good luck when the kid's come along though."

Coppers rolled his eyes. "We're gonna head back to Britain at some point Snor. Kinda' hard to do long distance relationships these days."

"We all need to think about what we'll do when we get out mate." Snorlax said, reverting back to his role of troop sergeant from bantering squaddie. He turned to Rika.

"Besides, you could do much worse, not a scar on him. And there are plenty of squaddie mattresses that would love to bag a blade."

"Stop playing wingman Snor," Rika said with a cheeky smile and a wink at Coppers, "If I didn't like him, I wouldn't have slept with him."

"O'aye? And what about me?" Asked Oz, "Am I likeable enough for you?"

"Piss off Oz," She said, "Do I look like a Koala?"

The rear of the van filled with laughter again as Snorlax slid the panel shut again with a smirk on his face. He spotted Tigger watching him and shook his head.

"You know I'm right boss."

"You shouldn't encourage him." Tigger said, keeping his eyes on the road. "One day he could be zipping her into a body bag."

"Or he could be walking down the aisle asking you to give away the bride." Snor countered. Tigger sighed and shrugged. Snor nodded at the back of the van. "He likes her."

"They've been together for a month." Tigger replied.

"But he was the first one she opened up to and became comfortable with."

Tigger stared at Snorlax. Snorlax shrugged. Tigger shook his head. "They've only just met."

"Give it time, it'll happen."

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

"Did you know with Alison?"

"Yeah, I did." Snorlax said before flashing a smug smile. "And I was as happy as a dog with a steak."

Tigger let the conversation go and silently drove on. To press the matter would alienate the troop, and they didn't need that when they were driving to contact.

They were dressed in full woodland flektarn camo and their faces were covered in full camouflaged war paint, jungle hats and worn olive scrim scarfs around their necks. Plate carriers and webbing covered their chests and belts, and their assault weapons lay close to hand.

Drone footage had found something odd, a collection of military bashas and tents up in the hills. They hadn't been there on the previous drone sweep and there was nothing on the map, but it was uncomfortably close to the Takagi memorial PowerStation outside Tokonosu that the engineers had been working on getting back online. It could be survivors, could be raiders, command needed to know and Tigger's troop was the closest team.

They found a nearby carpark just after twelve and pulled into a discreet parking spot. Tigger checked his watch and nodded.

"Just time for a brew and a smoke boys." He said as they got out of the van.

Oz got out a small stove and lit some hexamine blocks and brewed up a pair of mess tins. The rest of the squad lit up cigarettes and drank some water while Tigger and Snorlax went over the route they'd tab to target on the map, marking bearings on the map for them to follow over a brew.

They finished their drinks and quickly assembled their day sacks and tactical gear before doing a quick ammo check and gathering around the map.

"Alright, Tactical column." Tigger said. "Snorlax on point, Coppers, Me, Oz, Rika. Intel has our campers about five clicks South East of our current position. They've set up in a military style so they might have some military expertise with them. If they have vehicles, they'll probably be about here, so we'll circle around and cut them off. If they run, they won't get far."

"Rules of engagement." Asked Snorlax.

"Don't fire until fired upon. We're here to talk, but if were contacted, have at it." Tigger replied.

"Roger that." Snor nodded.

"Everyone ready?" Tigger asked

"Yeah, boss." Snor replied.

The squad moved off into the woods in a single line, spread out about twenty meters apart. Within a few minutes, they were in dense woodland with the only sounds being from the scrape of dry leaves underfoot, the occasional birdsong, or the moan of a passing or trapped infected. The squad were fully armed, their C8 carbines held at 45 degrees and fingers on the trigger guards, sweeping the flanks for targets while Rika hung at the back, covering the squad's rear with her PSG and every hundred meters or so, the patrol would stop and take a knee, listen for any hostiles and check the map, before moving on 30 seconds later.

They continued their combat sweep until they reached their first waypoint. Tigger made a short whistle before the squad took a knee and Tigger took out his radio. "Hello Zero, this is Bravo-Seven-Six. At waypoint Sierra-Oscar Four Seven Nine, Tango-Charley Five Zero Three. Request target update, over."

" _Copy_ _Bravo-Seven-Six. Target status and location has unchanged. You are clear to advance."_

"Copy Zero. We're Oscar Mike. Out."

Tigger put away the radio and did a quick check of the map again, taking their next bearing before stowing the map and whistling to get the squad's attention. He made a T gesture with his hands and gestured to in the direction of the target, then spread his fingers out to indicate ten minutes then three more to indicate thirty minutes, then he gestured for them to spread out into a wide crescent formation before finishing with the order to advance.

The squad got up from the knee and moved forward, spreading out into the wide crescent.

Roughly half an hour later, the woodland noises were giving way to distant conversation and the scent of tobacco being carried on the wind, indicating they were downwind of their targets.

Tigger ordered them to halt and took a knee as everyone went prone.

Tigger put his C8's scope to his eye and could make out the tents and structures of a makeshift campsite, triangularly shaped with the tent's facing outwards; like a standard infantry platoon harbour, just over 500 meters out.

"Contact." He whispered into his throat COMs. "Bearing one-seven-four. Range five hundred. Hold."

As Tigger got his radio out to report to HQ, Rika set up her PSG on its bipod, calmly setting her eye to the scope and scanning the camp sight. She studied the camp, and something struck her as off. She could hear talking coming from the camp, but it wasn't Japanese. From this distance, she could only pick out phrases, but it sounded like Russian.

Movement suddenly caught her eye, she shifted her scope to follow. It was a man in a camouflaged jacket, he crouched by a tent and shouldered something. Her eye's widened as she saw what it was.

"CONTACT FRONT!" She screamed, only to be drowned out by the shot report as the man fired, the bark of a tree exploding outwards as sharp shrapnel above the patrol.

As the muzzles of the patrol's C8's started to light up as the rifle's kicked and exploded return fire. Rika put her eye back to her sight and lined up on the man, flicking her safety off and squeezing off a round, only for the man just to move off her crosshairs for a clean miss.

" _Suppressive fire!"_ Tigger shouted.

Everyone switched to full auto mode.

Copper's ears rang with loud reports as the carbine's spat out rounds, his shoulder pounded from the lightweight but stock kicking back like an angry donkey with each round that cycled into the chamber. The smell of burnt cordite began to assault his nostrils as the first staccato supersonic cracks of return fire zipped over his head.

He knew that noise. AKs.

" _Changing mags!"_ Snorlax shouted as the squad's fire changed from long dragged out responsive bursts to shorter bursts punctuated by the occasional deeper crack of Rika's heavier PSG.

As the SAS slowed to change mags, the harsh crack of Kalashnikov's took their place as at least three, maybe four hostiles traded fire with the British. At this range, both sides were pushing the limits of their weapons effective ranges, so they were going to have to get closer to start whittling each other down.

"Prepare to move!" Tigger shouted as he pulled a smoke grenade from his webbing and tossed it, waiting a moment for the smoke screen to set before shouting "MOVE!"

Training took over as Coppers flicked on his rifle's safety and threw himself to his feet and ran. Taking only a few speedy strides before throwing himself down again as he heard his Sergeant from training's voice in his head repeating _"I'm up. He sees me. I'm down!"_

He refocused his sights on the hostiles. He switched back to semi auto and snapped off the remaining rounds in his magazine before shouting _"Changing!"_ as he pressed the mag release and grabbed a fresh one from his webbing. He glanced over at Tigger to check he wasn't out of position.

Tigger was the picture-perfect image of calm and collected. He was crouched half behind a tree firing short controlled bursts from his C8 as bullet's zipped past him with the calm as if he were refereeing a cricket match. Coppers felt a familiar flash of admiration for his CO, before going back to the business of killing the enemy.

Through their scopes, they all began to draw the same conclusion; these were no armatures. They were moving and shooting like pros while also rapidly dismantling their camp, definably a military background.

" _Ammo check!"_ Snorlax yelled.

Each patrol member checked their magazines and webbing before giving a thumbs up.

"Coppers, Oz! On me! Prepare to move! Rika, Boss! Covering fire!"

The sniper and officer heeded Snor's words and provided suppressing fire as Snorlax lead the others around on a flanking manoeuvre. It was an obvious but effective tactic; they outnumbered their opponents. Split their effective fire down so it's easier to advance.

Suddenly, a high calibre rifle round streaked through the forest. It exploded through Snorlax's head with a bloody red fountain as it passed through his skull, before glancing off a tree and continuing onwards.

Snorlax slumped to the ground, suddenly silent and still.

" _Man down!"_ Coppers yelled as he watched Snorlax go down midstride. The deep crack of a high calibre rifle echoing through the forest.

"Fuck!" Tigger cursed in annoyance. "Rika! Find that sniper! Coppers! Keep the rest of the fuckers busy! Oz, on Snor!"

Coppers and Rika lined up their targets, Rika caught a glimpse of the sniper disappearing behind a tree and seemingly vanishing into thin air. Coppers saw similar but caught one of them midway through throwing a civvie Bergan on his back. He raised his C8 to his shoulder and squeezed off a burst, trying to control his breathing and apply his sniper training to the lighter carbine.

He grinned in satisfaction as the round caught him through the shoulder and he dropped, blood spattered on his jacket. One of the other hostiles dragged him into cover behind a tree before he too vanished.

And like that, the firefight ended.

Coppers and Rika fired off a few more shots towards the fleeing hostiles. With his magazine spent, Coppers dropped his C8 and looked down at Snorlax. Oz was doing CPR, but Tigger shook his head.

"Headshot." He announced grimly. "Straight between the eyes. Probably dead before he hit the ground." He stood up and looked towards where the fire had come from. "Anyone get one?"

"I did." Coppers said. Tigger nodded.

"That's something at least." He mumbled in acknowledgment. Had it been a movie, he would have given a speech or sworn revenge on those that did this. But instead, he just gave calm instructions.

"Coppers, on stag. Rika, see what you can find out about these fuckers, Oz go with her. I'll deal with Snor."

They all nodded and silently went about their business. Oz and Rika trudging off towards the contact sight while Coppers reloaded and focused on setting up a perimeter in case the bastards came back while intermitted listening to Tigger on the radio calling for an evac

It was no more than ten minutes before a small hurricane blew through the forest as an RAF Chinook stirred up the forest as it came down in a clearing to the north. A few minutes later, a detachment from the medical corps, or 'the body snatchers' arrived with a stretcher and a body bag for Snorlax, accompanied by a platoon or regular soldiers.

Rika trudged over as the medics did their work.

"Found something." She announced and motioned for them to follow. Tigger followed her and motioned for Coppers to follow. They followed Rika to where the campsite had been. The ground was littered in spent brass, and Oz stood over the dead body Coppers had shot.

Tigger looked at the corpse, nodding at Copper's handiwork. "Shot through the heart. Nice one."

"Look at this though." Rika said, handing something black and metal to Tigger. "Found it on the floor, matches the brass."

Coppers looked at it. It was a magazine for an AK74. Tigger grunted and threw it back to Rika before taking out a pack of cigarettes and handing them out before lighting one up.

He looked at the corpse. Eastern European face, civvie clothes, hiking boots, and a battle belt with AK mag pouches that could have been assembled from any decent military surplus store or website. Then he recounted the battle in his head, and a moment and a single word came to mind.

He had no proof, no evidence except his gut and what he saw. They way they'd moved, the way they'd fought, it was indicative of one group

One he _really_ didn't like…

 _Spetsnaz._

…

 **Hokodate harbour  
Z-day + 2969  
D-Day+33  
11:06**

Mai's display lit up with flashing red warnings and readings. "Sir!" He cried. "The Akula just fired up their fire control radar!"

"Make ready to go active sonar. Plot fire missions based on last known locations of warships in the harbour and fire on my command." Commander Meres ordered. The Bridge officer's tensed.

The _Ambush_ carried an assortment of spearfish heavy torpedoes and Tomahawk cruise missiles, either of which was sufficient to turn any ship in that harbour into a sinking fireball. If the Akula fired on them, they could and would fire back.

"Missiles away!" Mai reported. "Confirm! Tracking Six 3M-14 Klub cruise missiles outbound on track One-Six-Five. It's not for us."

That made no sense. What was their target? Mai sounded off again as his console lit up again.

"Now the Varyag! Tracking twelve SS-N-12 Sandbox missiles launched. Same bearing as the Klubs!"

"What's their target?" pondered Meres. No one would waste eighteen good none replenish-able missiles for no reason. "Plot a course known on the missile's last known trajectory."

A map of Japan flashed up on the central view screen. A straight red line overlaid on the map. It was as Meres feared. The line intersected Tokonosu bay.

"My god…" Murmured Mai, "They're attacking the fleet…"

"Contact Fleet command ASAP!" Meres ordered. "Calculate time to target on those missiles and report out findings!"

"Aye, sir!" The comms officer replied before typing the message. Meres turned to the Engineering and helm officer.

"Engineering, make ready to go to full power, all ahead full. As soon as that message is away, they'll be able to triangulate our position. Tactical, ready electronic warfare countermeasures. Once the message is away, we'll make a run for deep water then go as dark as the deep blue! Clear?"

"AYE SIR!" the crew chorused as they went to work, locking down systems, priming the reactor and readying countermeasures. They knew that one slip up, one mistake, and they were all as good as dead.

"Countermeasures ready!"

"Reactor ready!"

"Helm ready!"

"Message ready!"

Meres took a deep breath, before nodding to the COMs officer.

"Do it."

The officer nodded and pressed ENTER on his keyboard.

Now it was time to make like smoke and oakum… or in other words: run like hell.

* * *

 **Well, I promised early summer, didn't I? and in the words of Merlin... "It's all going to shit!"**

 **Seriously, this is the tip of the iceberg. You guys are gonna hate me for what I've got planned.**

 **But anyway, that is a _long_ way off. Places to go, things to do, world's to conquer and all that.**

 **Please drop a review/favourite/ follow yadda yadda yadda you know the drill.  
**

 **Right, time for some sleep... Bye**

 **Jango**


	12. Chapter 11

**Operation: Archangel**

 **Chapter 11**

 **Camp Wellington  
** **Z-day + 2971  
D-Day+35  
15:40**

"So, how'd it go boss?"

Tigger said nothing as he walked over to their fridge. He removed a wifebeater before slamming the fridge door shut and collapsing into a nearby chair, popping the seal on his drink.

Shit, was the answer.

Even with the warning from HMS _Ambush_ , the damage was considerable. Despite their best efforts, a lot of the missiles got through. They'd been lucky, most of the fleet was dispersed on patrol and not in harbor at the time, but HMS _Iron duke_ and _Kirishima_ had been sunk and the _Hyuga_ was still burning, it was doubtful that they'd be able to save her. The ground strike had done considerable damage as well. 15 fixed wing aircraft as well as 7 helicopters destroyed, including 12 harriers. Another two-dozen damaged to varying degrees on top of 72 dead and over a nearly a hundred wounded.

Following the attack, they'd received a transmission from Hokkaido. It was a radio transmission from one Admiral Vitomir Nikolayevich, former commander of the Russian Pacific fleet, on behalf of the 'Pan-Asian naval alliance', which claimed sovereignty over the Isle of Japan as well as most of the pacific rim, and demanded that the British task force withdraw.

The powers that be had met and a decision made. All of the commanding officers had been summoned to a briefing on what was to happen. A briefing which Tigger had just returned from.

Tigger drank his beer in one prolonged gulp, before crushing the can in his hand.

"Shit." He said simply.

The rest of the troop could tell he was furious. He had _that_ look in his eye, the look of a man who was ready to attack, maim, mutilate and murder just about anything that crossed him. They waited patiently as he removed a box of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one up and took a deep drag before offering an explanation.

"The powers that be, have decided to negotiate," Tigger said with spite. "That we, quote 'need to establish a dialogue with them and make them understand that it is in their best interest to return to the fold'."

"You're shitting us!" Coppers exclaimed, disbelievingly.

"I shit you not mate," Tigger replied before taking another drag of his smoke.

"So where does that leave us?" Oz asked. Oz had been promoted to troop Sergeant following Snorlax's death. He had more experience in special forces than Coppers and Rika was technically on secondment from the SAT so not eligible for the position.

"As we were," Tigger said with a sigh. "Temporary stand down pending re-deployment."

"Boss! These bastards sank 2 ships and killed seventy people!" Coppers exclaimed. "Are we just gonna sit here and let it go?" Tigger smiled slightly.

"I share the sentiment, Mike." He said. "But what are you going to do? Go all fucking Rambo, shoot anything that moves and blow up anything that doesn't? That'll either you get killed or thrown in the clink for the rest of your life." Tigger lay back into his seat.

"Now you can either do that or wait for orders like the rest of us. Because trust me, when this shit hits the fan and hit it it will, we're the ones who are gonna be sent in to clean it up."

…

 **Hills around Companions rest  
Z-day + 2971  
D-Day+35  
17:00**

"Ok, so who would win in a fight? 2014 Godzilla, or Pre-refit Gipsy Danger?"

Chris pondered the question for a moment before answering.

"Pre-refit? Godzilla, no question." He said, glancing over at Kohta. "Post refit, probably Gipsy."

"No way!" Kohta protested. "Godzilla would just use his radiation breath on him!"

"Nah. Gipsy took re-entry heat friction _and_ a nuclear blast and survived, plus her conn-pod is radiation shielded so the crew are safe. Besides, Gipsy could just run Godzilla through with her chain swords."

Saeko shook her head and smiled. "This is what I get for sharing patrol with Otaku."

The three of them were out scouting some of the hills farther from Companions rest. Chris had rapidly found flying a desk irksome and because of a number of delays and the recent attack, Kohta's armorer course had been postponed, leaving him in a slight funk. Seeing that her two friends were both in dire need of a distraction, Saeko had invited them to go with her instead of Takashi and Rei.

They'd spent the last few hours hiking through the woods, having decided not to bother with a car so as to save on fuel and maintain stealth as best they could. Saeko was on point, Kohta following with an M16 and Chris bringing up the rear with only his swords and a Sig, having traded weight and firepower for stealth and agility.

"Ok, I got another one," Kohta said. "Which would win in a fight. An imperial star destroyer? Or the…"

"Quiet." Saeko suddenly interrupted. Everyone froze.

Her hand fell to her sword hilt and she pulled it loose in its saya with a _sclick_ before she stepped forward silently. Chris did the same with his katana and Kohta flicked the safety off his rifle.

The tree line thinned and the trio came to a road. In the past, this road would have been a quiet country lane that would have been driven by farmers and tourists visiting the mountain's hot springs. Today, however, it was empty and silent and Chris almost stepped out into the road without realizing. The trio stopped just inside the wood line. Just beyond the trees, the hard shoulder rose slightly to meet the tarmac.

They looked around, down both directions of the road and into the woods on the other side of the road. All three of them noticed it, the trees seemed to be moving.

"Must be over a hundred of them," Chris whispered. "They're surprisingly quiet too."

"Maybe their vocal cords have degraded so they can't growl or moan," suggested Kohta. It was possible, none of them had any expertise in corpse biology.

"Regardless, we should head back with our friends none the wiser," Saeko said. Chris and Kohta agreed. They might be able to take them, but the best way to survive fighting zombies, was not to fight them unless you had to.

"Alright, let's get outta here," Chris said, he turned to Kohta. "Kohta, you've got point."

Kohta nodded. He stood, turned and took a single step before there was a metallic snap underfoot.

"AARRGGHHH!" Kohta screamed in agony. Chris and Saeko spun and watched in horror as he collapsed, a metal jaw with sharp teeth digging into his right leg just above his boot, gushing blood and tearing muscle from bone.

"Hirano!" Saeko shouted as she and Chris rushed to his aid.

"Aww shit, he's stood on a fucking bear trap!" Chris announced as he examined the wound. It was bad. He doubted Kohta would lose the foot, but it was gonna need a tourniquet and a hospital when they got him out.

And then the groaning starting.

"Oh shit," Kohta said. He could see the undead horde turning to cross the road towards them through his teared-up eyes.

"Saeko, hold them off," Chris said as he threw his day sack off and started retrieving tools from it. "I'll deal with Kohta, just buy me some time."

"Guy's, just go!" Kohta pleaded as Saeko stood and turned to face the threat. "Just leave me and save yourselves."

"As courageous as that it Hirano - kun," Saeko said with a slight smirk as she unsheathed Murata-tou. "I do not wish to have to explain to your family why we left you behind."

"Yeah, sod that mate," Chris said, looking up at his friend. "I Ain't pissin' off your pink demon of a wife!"

Despite the agonizing pain, Kohta smiled at that.

As Chris began to work, Saeko stepped forward, carefully surveying the scene as she cleared the tree line and felt firm tarmac underfoot. Despite facing down maybe a hundred undead, she remained calm and stoic as she carefully chose her target, before she lunged and began her bloody harvest.

"You know," Kohta said watching as undead bodies, heads, and blood started to fly. "She still scares me when she does that."

"You should've seen her when she was 13 and angry," Chris said as he dug through the medkit and withdrew a hit of morpheein and pulled the cap off. "This will take the pain away." He said before jabbing it into Kohta's leg, yelping slightly.

"Baby," Chris muttered. The morphine would take the pain away, now he just needed to get his leg free. The trap was a simple one, with a single bent piece of steel as a spring either side of the jaws and a flat pan in the middle, currently with Kohta's boot on it. It was basic physics, the 'springs' were forcing the jaws shut, press down on the springs, relieve the pressure on the jaws, get Kohta's leg out. Simple.

"Chris! On your right!"

Chris looked up at Kohta's warning. A few undead were getting around Saeko's slaughter fest, and she was too preoccupied to deal with stragglers. Chris grunted and drew his Sig, flicking off the safety and opened up firing one handed and expending the entire magazine in dropping them. He pressed the mag release and slotted in a fresh mag from his webbing. He wasn't going to get Kohta out if he had to stop and fight.

"Kohta," He said, releasing the action on the pistol and offering him the sig. "Cover me."

"What?" He asked, taking the pistol. "What about the morphine?"

"Just don't shoot me or Saeko," Chris said shortly, not wanting to stop and question whether it was really a good idea to give a man about to be as high as a kite on morphine a loaded weapon. He simply needed the undead off his back so he could get Kohta's leg free, plus the drugs hadn't taken full effect yet, so hopefully, Kohta could still shoot straight.

Kohta simply nodded and started steadily with both hands. He could still shoot. Chris tentatively put his hands on the springs and pressed down. Hard. Kohta cried in pain again as the rusted metal teeth started to relieve their pressure and retract from his leg. Chris was struggling though; this spring was really _really_ stiff. The jaws were nearly wide enough.

"Kohta…" Chris strained to say, "Move. Your. Damn. Leg!"

Kohta winced as he kicked his leg up and clear of the trap, just as Chris's strength gave out and the jaws snapped shut again. Both men breathed heavily for a second before Chris went for a tourniquet and Kohta shot another zombie that slipped past Saeko.

"Sorry, but this is going to hurt," Chris said as he looped the tourniquet over Kohta's boot and past the still bleeding wound. Kohta bit back a scream as Chris tightened the tourniquet above the wound. It would hurt like hell, but it would stop the bleeding.

"Right then," Chris said. Kohta's wound was dealt with for now. How was Saeko doing?

Chris looked over. Simply put, she looked like she was having the time of her life, despite being covered in undead blood. Dozens of zombie corpses lay dismembered and dead at her feet. Her blade was still swinging in clattering graceful arks of death and she had that shit ass grin on her face.

"That stupid woman! She's gonna get herself killed!" Chris growled. She was in so much battle lust she couldn't see that she was about to be surrounded! Chris pulled his last Sig magazine from his webbing and tossed it to Kohta before moving his M16 within his grabbing reach. "I'm going in! Try not to shoot us!"

Before Kohta could answer, Chris was charging towards Saeko, Swords out of their saya's and roaring a thunderous kiai. The first undead turned to face him. Chris forced his wakizashi downwards through its eye socket before decapitating it a moment later with his katana. With a flick of his sword short the head went flying as the blade opened another walking corpse from ear to shoulder. Saeko looked up at him and their eyes met. Her eyes were wild, unhinged… like a wild animal.

A grin spread Chris' face.

As he watched them kiai and go back to slaying the undead, Kohta, despite the pain in his leg, was grateful that the morphine didn't seem to be having an effect. Otherwise, the drugs would've clouded his vision and he wouldn't have seen them for what they were. They were samurai. Trained, deadly, samurai armed of old reborn to fight a new threat… heh, maybe the drugs were having an effect after all.

Moments later, there were only three of them left.

Chris was about to finish one when disaster struck. Saeko's sword, having been weakened by the years of fighting and the extended period of combat, shattered as she slashed across the ribcage of one of the two she was engaged with.

All her rage. All her battle lust, vanished as she watched the shattered shards of her sword glint in the air. She stumbled over a corpse and fell. The two undead followed her down. Terrified, she thrust Murata-tou's handle and the remaining inch or so of blade into the eye socket of the first. But the second landed over her legs. She made a blood-curdling scream as it bit into her.

Chris's heart split at her scream. He'd just finished his zombie as she did. He turned to face her, a split second passed as he registered the situation in his brain, and a shot of adrenaline into his muscles in response to the threat to the woman he loved.

Chris took three strides and grabbed the feasting zombie by the shoulders, his muscles flexing as he pulled the monstrosity off Saeko and flung it away with casual ease before he spun on his heels and advanced, twirling his katana high overhead with the tip pointed down, roaring in anger as he thrust it down. Once. Twice. Three times.

Chris drew three heavy breaths. His face seething with controlled aggression mixed with animalistic rage. Satisfied that the threat was dead, he looked at Saeko lying on the ground, her face pale and unnaturally quiet. He rushed to her side and took a knee over her.

"Saeko!" He said as he looked over the wound. No doubt, a full bite. She was infected. Saeko's breath started to become erratic and she looked up at Chris.

"T… Takashi?"

"KOHTA! MED KIT!" Chris shouted. There was only one way to save her. He whipped his sword clean of undead blood or anything else. He looked at her, fragile and dying. He had to do it, she could hate him for it later. If she survived.

He raised his katana. Hesitated. Then brought it down on her.

Kohta hobbled up, flinging Chris's daysack to him and collapsed as he completed the amputation.

"Saeko! Stay with me Saeko!" Chris said with panic as he worked as fast as he could, slapping a double shot of morphine into her and getting a tourniquet over her amputated leg.

"Chris…" Kohta said as he looked at Saeko's bitten amputated leg. "Is she?"

"No!" Chris said with a death glare that could sink a battleship as he pulled his radio out of its pouch and pressed the transmit button, holding Saeko's hand as she slipped into unconsciousness.

"Hello Zero acknowledge, this is Romeo Seven-five-Zero. Request immediate medivac on grid 735,284. Two times casualties. One Cat C. One cat A field amputation. Zero alpha acknowledge!"

No answer, just static.

"Fuck!" Chris swore. They were too high in the mountains for a radio signal to get through. Their best bet was to get back to companion's rest and use the transmitter there. Chris sheathed his swords, threw his daysack on his back and carefully put Saeko over his shoulder.

"Kohta," He said as he stood carefully. "I need you to be able to walk buddy. I can't carry you and Saeko."

"Leave me, save Saeko," Kohta said shaking his head as he struggled and failed to get up. "I'll just slow you down." Chris grabbed Kohta by his collar and practically snarled at his friend.

"Look mate! We've been over this! I am not going back to camp to explain to your wife and son why I abandoned you wounded in the field waiting to die. And the sooner you get the hell up the sooner we can get Saeko the help she needs. NOW ON YOUR FEET SOLDER!"

Kohta grunted as he tried to rise and Chris hauled him to his feet, putting his left arm over his shoulder to support him as they hobbled away as fast as they could.

…

 **Companions rest  
Z-day + 2971  
D-Day+35  
20:37**

Saya Takagi was a genius. She could solve problems that others just couldn't, predict certain events before they became a problem, and was a mother and teacher to her child. But none of that was helping her to stay calm right now.

Her husband, Saeko and Lieutenant Young were hours overdue with no contact! Takashi, Rei and some of the others had gone out looking for them, but they weren't back yet and she's been left in charge… and where the hell was her husband!

"Saya-Chan!" A voice shouted from across the courtyard. Saya smiled slightly, there was only one person who _dared_ call her that.

"Yes Munchkin?" Saya replied, turning to face Alice as she ran up to her. She knew Alice disliked the nickname as much as she disliked being called Saya-Chan, but as long as she called her Saya-Chan, she'd call her munchkin.

"Young-Sensei is on the radio," Alice said, not reacting to the nickname. She had a sense of determination and purpose in her eyes that told Saya something was wrong. She thrust a military radio to her. "He needs to talk to you urgently."

Saya took the radio. "Takagi here."

" _Takagi. Thank god. Listen carefully."_ Young said. Saya could hear he was moving and breathing heavily, his voice was strained with excursion. _"I need you to go to my office, get on the sat phone and call for a medivac on speed dial 5. Tell them I need an immediate medivac at Companions rest. Two casualties. One Cat C, one Cat A field amputation."_

"What?!" Saya screamed. Alice recoiled slightly. "What happened?!"

" _Saya, I'll tell you when we get to camp but right now I need you to call that medivac or Saeko's gonna die and your husband's probably going to join her!"_ Young retorted. _"Do you understand?"_

A myriad or emotions ran through Saya simultaneously; shock, fear, terror. What had happened out there? Were her best friend and husband going to die?

" _Saya! Do you understand?!"_ Young shouted, snapping her back to reality.

"Yes…" She said hesitantly. "I understand."

" _Good,"_ Young said, he was sucking in air. _"We're two minutes from the gate._ "

"I'll have Shizuka meet you there," Saya said. She threw the radio to Alice and ran towards the house as fast as she could.

Saya found the sat phone and frantically made the call, relaying the information Young had given her perfectly. The operator calmly relayed the information and assured her that a helicopter was being dispatched and would be there in under five minutes and that everything would be ok.

She just hung up as the gates opened.

Young was ready to drop. As soon as he was through the gates people rushed towards him. "Take them," he wheezed, refereeing to Saeko and Hirano. He couldn't support them any longer. Shizuka seized Saeko and Raiden took Kohta as Young's strength finally gave out and he collapsed to the ground, sucking in air as hard as he could and trying not to vomit.

"What happened?" He heard Takagi shout as she rushed towards them. Young could see everyone was shocked, looking between Kohta's bloody leg and the unconscious, limbless Saeko.

"We came across a herd and Kohta stood on a bear trap," Young said, just managing to get his water bottle open and sip some of the luke-warm water to get the taste of bile out of his mouth.

"Saeko held them off while I freed Kohta. There were about a hundred…" He paused to take another sip and breath. "…of them. I'd just freed Kohta and dealt with his wound when I noticed Saeko was surrounded. I went in to help her, but her sword broke and she got bit. I had to take her leg before she turned… Radio wasn't working… had to carry them… twisted my ankle… sorry I… took so long."

"You did ok, LT," Kohta said. Raiden was supporting him with an arm over his shoulder. He turned to Saya. "He wouldn't leave me even though I told him too. I'd be dead if it weren't for him."

Any further comments or conversation were cut short by the hurricane-like arrival of a British chinook helicopter. It set down just beyond the walls and medics rushed to take the wounded. Young told them what he'd done to them in terms of medication, the amount and time of morphine he'd administered were written on their faces, before being assisted into the chopper by two medics.

"I'm coming too!" Saya shouted as Kohta was helped into the helicopter. She made it two steps before a medic shouted "No!" telling her she'd just get in the way and that transport would be arranged to bring her to the hospital ship as soon as possible before the chinook's engines whined and the flying ambulance lifted off and accelerated towards the hospital ship.

As worried as she was about Kohta, she dreaded having to tell Takashi about Saeko.

* * *

*Wifebeater: Nickname for Stella Artois beer

* Clink: Jail

 **Here you are guys. Do I have your attention now? Good  
**

 **So yeah, you know the drill by now. Follow/favourite/review if you feel so kind**

 **And I will see you next time. Don't know when that will be  
**

 **Jango**


	13. Chapter 12

**Operation: Archangel**

 **Chapter 12**

 **Hospital ship Queen Elizabeth  
Z-day + 2973  
D-Day+37  
04:52**

Chris hadn't moved and was still waiting.

After he and the others had left companion's rest, the helicopter had bought them straight to the hospital ship for treatment. Chris had twisted his ankle and dislocated his left shoulder from carrying Saeko as a well as overstrained all the muscles down the right side of his back and arm from supporting Kohta. Kohta's foot wasn't as bad as it looked, it was mainly muscle and flesh damage. It'd been put in a cast and he'd been given crutches and, happily for him, sent to the base's armory to work as an assistant.

Saeko however, was another matter. Last Chris had seen of her, she was being wheeled away tied down to a gurney with an armed escort as doctors rapidly swapped medical terms he didn't understand.

He knew what the armed escort was for though.

Field amputations sometimes worked, sometimes didn't. It all depended on how soon after infection the bitten area was removed and how soon they got proper medical help. Chris had probably saved her from death by the zombie virus, it had been only a maximum of twenty seconds between her getting bitten and the amputation. But it had taken over three hours to get her back and to the doctors, making the chance of secondary infection and death from the amputation more likely.

He'd been told nothing. Every time he tried to see her he'd been stopped by the armed guard stationed outside the critical care ward. It was getting to the point that he was _really_ tempted to see the guard try and stop him… No. Flooring the guard and forcing his way in would benefit no one. It would get him thrown in military prison and no closer to finding out about Saeko.

He needed some distance. He was about to head off to the gym when the doors to the ICU opened and a Saeko was rolled out on a bed, unconscious, still and pale, but alive.

"Lieutenant Young?" the following Navy doctor asked. He was a tall man, grey-haired man with glasses in a white lab coat over a navy working uniform with the rank of Commander.

"Yes, sir," Chris said, standing a little straighter but not saluting, he was still only dressed in his blood-stained combat ensemble.

"I gather you've been waiting on the status of Miss Busujima?" he asked. "May I ask why?"

"I'm the liaison officer between the task force and her survivor settlement," Chris said choosing to gloss over the fact that she was an old friend and his first love. "I was also there when it happened and the one who took her leg off."

"I see," the doctor said, apparently satisfied with the answer. "Well, you'll be happy to know that we've stabilized her and she's past the most likely risk of secondary infection. She and her baby show no signs of infection and…"

"Baby?" Chris interjected. "She's pregnant?"

"Yes," the Doctor said. "She's about 4 weeks along… May I ask, are you the father?"

"No," Chris said sadly, looking away as orderlies continued to wheel her away. "Her husband is. I'll have to get in contact and get him over here."

"Of course," the Doctor said, "I'll arrange so you can have access to the communications center. Pease excuse me." Chris nodded his thanks as the doctor left him to tend to other patients.

For a while, Chris just stood there in silence, his heart breaking. His love was gone. When she'd been bitten, it was Takashi's name she'd said. Not his. It was Takashi's baby she was carrying. Not his. It was Takashi she loved.

Not him.

…

 **Camp Wellington Perimeter  
Z-day + 2973  
D-Day+37  
05:00**

In the darkness of the night, no one noticed as the surface of the black ocean swelled and broke on the shore, and twelve black figures crawled onto the shore. They were dressed entirely in black wetsuits, with oxygen tanks and rebreathers over their combat ensembles, each indistinguishable from the next. As they crawled ashore, they ditched their scuba gear and made final combat preparations.

One of them turned to the others. "Начало операции. Команда один шаг в штаб-квартире и казармах, вторая команда уничтожает авиационные и оружейные склады." (Commence operation. Team one move on the HQ and barracks, Team Two destroy the aircraft and weapons depots.)

The other frogmen nodded, divided into two teams of six and silently head off to do their work.

…

Jane groaned and stretched as she walked into her flight's hanger bay. She'd always had a habit of waking up early and inspecting her aircraft first thing since she learned to fly as a teenager. And to her distinct lack of surprise, Chief Fitter Shaun was already there too, working on _Lionheart_ with a steaming cup of tea nearby.

"Morning Shaun," Jane called warmly as she strode across the hanger. Shaun looked away from his work and gave her a short wave before returning to his task. Jane was about to ask him about the status of her aircraft when movement caught her eye.

Three figures dressed in black stepped out of the darkness and into the floodlit hanger, each brandishing a tactical Kalashnikov assault rifle. Her eye's widened and adrenaline shot through her muscles as she dived forward, grabbing Shaun and pulling him into the cover of a tool dolly as the hostiles opened fire on full auto.

The suppressed AKs cracked and barked and the dolly jumped and rattled as it absorbed round after round. Jane pulled her Walter PPK from its holster on her flight suit and pulled the slide while Shaun grabbed a spanner from atop the dolly.

"Who the fuck are they?" Shaun shouted, despite their suppressors the AK's report was still loud and echoing inside the hanger.

"Dunno, don't care!" Jane said as she jumped round into a crouch, readying herself to rise and fire over the top of the dolly. "We just need to…"

A small green ball sailed over their heads and landed behind them. Jane saw the grenade and dove away to the side, While Shaun, without a moment's hesitation, dove straight at it.

Jane didn't see the blast, but she was close enough to _feel_ it. A loud, dull thump accompanied by a wet bursting sound was all she heard, but the shockwave and her rough landing caused her ear drums to burst, disorientating her and causing her to drop her pistol.

As she pushed herself off the floor, she looked up just in time to see a black foot kick her PPK away, and the muzzle of an AK pointed at her head before everything went black.

…

Kohta paused his work as the sound of an explosion twigged his ears. The armorer sergeant working at the other desk didn't seem to notice.

"What was…" Kohta started to say, but he was cut off by an air raid like siren ringing through the building. Kohta jumped to his feet, wincing hard as he put weight on his bad leg. "What is that?"

"Base attack alarm," the sergeant said with some level of confusion. He picked up a Glock off the bench and started for the armory cage door. "You stay here, I'll go find out what's going on. Don't open this door unless they knock." The sergeant stepped through the door, leaving the cage door open he locked the outer armory door, sealing Kohta in with a metallic _click_. A moment later the alarm stopped.

Despite his sensei's reassurances, Kohta wasn't convinced. Over the year's he'd seen some shit and learned more than a few lessons. He knew the sound that a grenade made on detonation when he heard one. Keeping a cautious eye on the door, he hobbled over to the desk and picked up the last weapon he'd serviced, an M1014 combat shotgun, found a box of shells on the side and started loading.

Just as he inserted the fifth shell, there was a bang at the door. Kohta flinched. Another bang. Someone was trying to kick the door in.

Kohta pulled the charging handle on his shotgun, took what cover he could behind a desk, and pointed his shotgun at the door.

The banging stopped. For a moment Kohta thought they'd given up, then there was an explosion. The heat and pressure wave from the breaching charge made Kohta close his eyes and look away out of instinct. He snatched the trigger on his shotgun as fast as he could.

BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!BOOM!

His gun's action locked back empty. Kohta thought that was it. He'd be dead any second… nothing happened. He cracked an eye open.

On the floor in the doorway were two corpses dressed in black, their bodies now just a mutilated pile flesh, organs and blood. It took all of Kohta's strength not to vomit.

Another figure appeared in the door. Kohta snapped up his empty shotgun, for what good it would do him.

"Blue! Blue!" a British accent shouted frantically. Kohta squinted and lowered his shotgun slightly, whipping some of the crap smeared on his glasses of his glasses from the breech and looked at the figure. It was a British soldier in full camo and webbing, a pair of sergeant stripes on his uniform and a maroon red beret on his head. Kohta sighed and lowered the shotgun.

"Fuck me mate," The paratrooper said, looking down at the two corpses. "You did a right number on these two. Who are you again?"

"Kohta Hirano, Sergeant," Kohta said, putting the shotgun down on the desk. "Armourers apprentice."

"Where's the Armourer Sergeant?"

"He left just before they arrived," Kohta nodded at the bloody corpses. "What's going on?"

"We're under attack," the Sergeant said. Kohta resisted the temptation to say, 'no shit?' The para continued. "Our weapons were turned in for servicing. We need them and ammo."

Kohta nodded and grabbed the locker keys off their hook on the work bench before hobbling over to the appropriate locker, full of recently serviced L85s. The Sergeant turned and nodded out the doorway. He and more marron bereted paras started to enter the armory. The Sergeant started handing out weapons as Kohta opened another locker filled with pre-stacked mags.

"One rifle, 6 mags per man!" the sergeant shouted as he continued handing out rifles. "You know the drill! Get to your positions and let's grass the fuckers up!"

…

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Field Marshall Davies demanded as he burst from his office into the main staff office that his office was attached too.

"Sir!" A young staff private called while snapping to attention with a sharp salute. "We're under attack, sir!"

"You don't say?!" Davies shouted at the man for stating the obvious as if the explosions that had awoken him hadn't done that already.

The room was a tornado of panic and chaos. Most of the men and women in the HQ had spent most of their army career's flying desks and shuffling paperwork, rather than sleeping under hedges and getting into firefights like colleagues assigned to field duty. As such, most if not all had never been shot at and the sudden sound of explosions in their immediate vicinity had set them on edge and into borderline panic.

"Report!" Davies ordered, marching into the center of the room with confidence. "What's going on out there?!"

"Sir! We're under attack from an unknown number of hostiles," another staff member replied while listening to a headset pressed to his ear. "So far they've hit the aircraft hangers, the Armory, and we have unconfirmed sightings near the fuel depot! Our forces are mobilizing to engage!"

"How in the hell did they get here?!"

"Unknown sir. Air Traffic had no radar contacts so they didn't jump in."

'That probably means they swam in,' thought Davies, 'maybe from a submarine.'

"Order the Navy to go active sonar!" He ordered. "Tell them to scan for any submarines that may be…"

Davies was interrupted by the sounds of automatic gunfire nearby. Far closer than any of the explosions and had come from within the building itself. The entire room went silent for a second. They were inside.

"Stand too!" Davies ordered as he pointed at the door. "Barricade the doors!"

Frantically, the desk jockeys started moving desks, chairs and cupboards to block the doors while a few ran over to the emergency weapons locker and started handing out pistols. Davies spun on his heels and returned to his office, quickly removing a loaded Sig from one of the drawers before locking them all and returning to the room. Some of the soldiers had overturned their desks and had taken cover behind them, sidearms trained on the hastily barricaded door.

Davies cocked his own weapon and raised it. It had been years since he'd last fired it in anger. And the shooting skill of most staff officers was such that it would be more of a hindrance than a benefit, but Davies vowed that if today was the day he died… he would not die hiding like a coward.

Tense moments passed. Nothing happened. More gunfire, Sigs and AKs just outside the door. The Military Police guards making a stand before they too fell silent. Davies muttered a quick prayer for them as he aimed at the door in a dueling stance and prepared himself.

The door exploded, scattering debris and before it with the pressure wave. A pair of metal cylinders followed, detonating in balls of white light and thunder that blinded and deafened everyone in the room as the commando's moved in. Davies fired his pistol, his ears ringing from the thunder flash. He caught the first commando with a lucky shot before his colleagues opened up on full auto.

The elderly field marshal caught a round in the gut, carving a bloody tunnel through him. He slumped backward and fell from his feet. He lost the grip on his pistol as a second round removed his heart from his body and he slumped into darkness.

…

The Russian frogman commander looked down at the old man lying dead before him. He bore the ranks slides of a British Field Marshall and had shot Dimitri in the shoulder before succumbing to their assault. He had died fighting, he could respect that.

He placed a finger to his earpiece and spoke into the comm channel. "Какой у нас статус?" (What's our status?)

" _Мы атаковали вешалки и арсенал. Переезд на склад снабжения." (We have attacked the hangers and armory. Moving to the supply depot.)_ One of his commandos replied over the comm in a hushed voice.

"Людские потери?" (Casualties?)

" _Мы потеряли Славу и Грекова, пробив арсенал. Дальнейшие атаки были отбиты."_ _(We lost Slava and Grekov while breaching the armory. Further attacks were repulsed.)_

That meant the British were getting organized. It would not be long until they were overwhelmed and cut off from any chance of escape. He looked down at the dead field marshal again.

"Достигнута основная цель, Изымать." (Primary Objective achieved, withdraw.)

" _Да, командир_ _" (Yes, Commander.)_

The Spetsnaz commander hung up and looked around the room, his men were stripping the room for whatever intel they could, stuffing stacks of paper and copying computer databases onto portable hard drives before stuffing them into waterproof diving pouches. The commander knelt over the dead field marshal and removed his rank slides, before ordering his troop to move out.

They quickly crossed the darkness of the chaotic base. The burning aircraft in the hanger acting like a beacon fire to light their way. They arrived at the insert point and started quickly re-applying their scuba gear. The gear was bulky and tricky to wear over a full combat ensemble, even for experienced operators, but it was their only chance to get back to the _Typhoon_ submarine waiting for them off shore.

The commander had just fastened the last of his air tank's retaining straps when it happened. The frogman next to him jinked hard, clutching the new hole in his chest where his heart should've been as the crack of a sniper rifle punctuated the air. The commander barely had time to grab his rifle off its strap when a second sniper round, much deeper than the first, took the head off his second in command.

Something moved in the darkness. Three Spectres emerged, ghosts of black on black, cutting into the Spetsnaz ranks with suppressed carbine fire. A few of the Russian frogmen managed to raise their rifles to their shoulders but were immediately dropped by either sniper or carbine fire.

White-hot pain lanced through the commander and he collapsed, holding back screams of agony as a .338 Lapua round blasted through the side of his knees, amputating his left leg in a shower of gore and blood. As his blood began to seep into the pale sand, one of the specters stood over him, a suppressed carbine in his face.

"This is from the boys from Hereford," it said, as the commander's eye's widened.

The last thing he saw was the orange muzzle flash of the specter's carbine.

…

Tigger stood over the dead Spetsnaz commando he'd just killed. He and his troop had found their infill point and waited for them to return, trusting the rest of the base to secure everything else. The distant fireball of the hangers a beacon of their failure.

Tigger pressed his throat mic and spoke, "This is Bravo-seven-Alpha. All hostile's neutralized. Over."

…

 **Camp Wellington  
Z-day + 2973  
D-Day+37  
22:00**

"I don't care about your paperwork! I want to know where my husband is!"

Chris' ears turned up at the shrill voice and smiled. He excused himself from the clerk's desk he had been working at and headed across to the room to save the duty Sergeant from a certain very irate pink haired genius.

"Takagi-san," he called as he walked up, turning to the duty sergeant and saying, "I've got this Sergeant." to the man's visible relief. "Kohta's fine, I'll take you to him."

He led her outside and commandeered a waiting Land Rover to drive across the base. They passed hangers containing the carcasses of burnt out jets and wrecked equipment. Saya paled slightly as they passed the armory, a pair of engineers trying to remount a dented and blasted door to the frame. Had Kohta been in there? Was he ok?

"We're here," Chris said as he pulled the land rover over. Saya turned. She expected to see a hospital, a triage center, a morgue, but instead, it was... an Irish bar? Chris smiled and motioned for her to get out. He escorted her to the door, holding it open for her. He smirked again as he saw here eyes widen.

In the middle of the airport bar, Saya saw her husband surrounded by a large mass of chanting soldiers in British uniforms, every one of them clutching a pint of beer and watching as Kohta put a fifth empty tankard on the bar before accepting a sixth as it was forced into his hands by a soldier and he proceeded to start to down it. Saya was speechless as the soldiers continued to chant;

"We like to drink with Kohta! Coz Kohta is our mate! And when we drink with Kohta, He get's it down in 7! 6! 5! 4! 3! 2! 1!" There was a slight sigh of disappointment as Kohta was still half way through his pint, but one soldier rectified this.

"What country are you from?!"

"FINLAND!"

"WHAT LANGUAGE DO YOU SPEAK?!"

"FINNISH! FINISH! FINISH! FINISH!..."

Chris laughed and explained as the chants continued. "These boys are paratroopers from 2 Para. During the battle, 2 Spetsnaz commando's busted into the armory. Kohta killed both of them with a shotgun and then proceeded to pass out weapons and ammo to all of these guys when they came for it. This is their way of saying thank you and well done."

Saya's mouth bobbed like a goldfish for a moment as Kohta finished his pint and slapped it on the bar with the others with a cheer from the Para's. Suddenly her tough, angry exterior shattered and she became a wailing teenager again.

"KOHTA!" she screamed as she rushed into his arms, burying her head into his chest, to the astonishment of the surrounded paratroopers.

"Oh, hello dear," Kohta said with a smile as he patted his wife's balling head before explaining to the astonished paras. "Guy's, this is my wife, Saya. "

"No shit?!" one the Para's laughed in astonishment, before slapping his palm loudly on the wooden bar. "Barkeep! Another round for the Missus!"

Chris smiled as the paratroopers cheered again. He walked over and tapped a staff sergeant who was observing the proceedings on the shoulder. "Make sure those two are billeted together and get some peace Staff. They've had a rough few days."

The staff sergeant nodded and ensured him that he would. Chris thanked him and took his leave; soldiers needed some downtime away from the prying eyes of officers, he understood and respected that. Besides, he had other business to attend to: If Saya was here, that meant that others from Companion's rest would be too… and he was betting they would be heading to the hospital ship to see Saeko.

…

As he sat waiting next to her unconscious body, Chris kept trying to remind himself that Saeko and her child would be ok.

He was failing.

She was tough as nails, a samurai warrior in mind, body and spirit. But every time he told himself that the horror stories of pregnant women who'd been bitten, who's unborn child had turned and started literally eating their way out of their mothers, or the tales of failed field amputations came to mind.

He blamed himself, and his spirits hit rock bottom. He took her hand and began to cry.

"Saeko… I'm sorry."

Any further self-pity, however, was cut short by the door to Saeko's room opening. Takashi and Rei entered the room with Takashi fixed Chris with an armor piercing glare, before it dissolved into fear and sadness as he shifted his gaze to Saeko.

Chris could tell he was not wanted. He retracted his hand and stood up from the bedside chair. Takashi pushed past him and took up residence and began crying as soon as he was clear. Chris put a hand on Rei's shoulder.

"I'll be outside if you need me," he whispered, before excusing himself without another word. Rei scarcely had time to nod before the door shut behind him.

"How?" Takashi asked through his now streaming tears. "How could he let this happen?"

Rei sighed, she could see what was coming. "Young-san did everything he could. He saved Saeko and Kohta."

"Did he?" Takashi snarled. He was scared and angry, Rei could understand why. Saeko was the love of his life. Until Young-san came along, no one in Takashi's eye's challenged him for her, everyone either had someone or he knew she had no interest in. But with Young-san it was different… and for him to have done _this_ to her…

"Takashi," Rei said softly, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. "You can't blame him for this."

Takashi's rage peaked and he jumped to his feet, snarling as he spun to face Rei and fixing her with rage filled eyes, causing her to jump back and withdraw her hand.

"Why are you defending him?!" Takashi shouted, pointing at Saeko's body. "Look what he did to her!" He paused his rage for a moment, shaking his head as if confused.

"Where is he?!" he demanded. Rei stood up a little straighter, defiant to his rage.

"Outside," she said firmly. "Go face him and cool off, if that'll make you feel better."

Takashi stormed out of the room, slamming the door and leaving Rei alone with Saeko. She took the now overturned and vacant seat next to her and sat, taking her friend's hand in her own.

"Oh Saeko," she said mournfully. "You have two men you love about to fight over you. I wish you were here to stop it…"

Rei swore she heard the heart monitor Saeko was hooked up to beep faster as if her heart rate had jumped slightly. She convinced herself she was imagining it and settled in to wait and see who would return to Saeko's side.

…

Chris was waiting for him on the deck.

Being a former cruise ship, the Queen Elizabeth was designed more for comfort than practicality, although this did help morale given her wartime role as a hospital/ troop ship. As such, she was littered with outdoor viewing galleries and smoking areas. It was one of these such areas where Chris waited alone, leaning silently against the rails, watching firefly lights of the base on shore.

The viewing gallery door opened and Chris turned to face him.

Takashi had come.

The man before him was furious, and rightly so. His fists were clenched to the point the were trembling, and the glare Takashi fixed him with could melt cement.

"How?" he seethed firmly. "How could you let this happen?"

Chris pushed off the rail and stood tall before him, a few meters away.

"Kohta stood in a bear trap and was wounded," Chris replied evenly. "Saeko was holding _them_ off while I freed and tended to Kohta. After I did I went to help her, but her blade snapped and she was overwhelmed." He paused for a moment before looking Takashi in the eyes.

"It was bad luck, Takashi. There was nothing I could do."

"That's a lie!" Takashi roared. "You could've saved her!"

Chris gritted his teeth. "What would you have had me do Takashi? Hmm? Leave Kohta and tell Saya and Daichi that we left their husband and father to die to save our own hides?! You know we couldn't do that! Saeko wouldn't allow it and neither would I!"

"Then why? Why did you have to cut off her leg?!" Takashi demanded as he took an aggravated step forwards, closing the difference with Chris.

"She was bitten Takashi!" Chris replied, borderline shouting. "I had no choice! It was kill her! Take her leg! Or leave her to die! At least this way she still has a chance!"

"And what then?" Takashi was barely an arm's length away now. "You think Saeko will be happy a one-legged cripple?! She'd would've rather die than become that! If you ever loved her you would've known that!"

Chris seethed and clenched his fists till his knuckles when white and cracked.

"Careful Takashi," he warned in a slow, calm, controlled voice. "Be _very_ careful…"

"Why, what are you going to do?" Takashi dared, bringing his fists up. Chris remained still, physically doing nothing. Takashi saw this and scoffed, "You coward! You never loved her…"

Takashi didn't see Chris lunge. Chris sprang off his back foot and launched his entire weight behind his first strike, smashing his fist into Takashi's gut, followed by a bone crunching left hook across Takashi's jaw.

Takashi staggered back, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. He growled as he brought his right fist back and launched a powerful punch aimed at Chris' face. Chris saw it coming. Unlike Takashi, he had over twelve years combined samurai and military training on his side. To him, Takashi was moving in slow motion.

He sidestepped the punch to his right, before grabbing the fist and swinging it across, spinning Takashi so he had his back to him. Chris snaked his left arm across Takashi's neck and his right under his armpit, crossing them in a rear triangle hold while he stamped down on the back of Takashi's knee joint, forcing him to his knees while keeping his right arm immobile and limiting his air supply to the point that he could barely breathe without going unconscious.

"Now listen, and listen well Takashi," Chris whispered in his ear. His voice was on the knife edge of calm and a death threat.

"Saeko is the first girl I ever loved. She and I were practically raised together and I am ready to both kill and die for her if need be. If you were any other man I would kill you here and now, but I'm not going to for two reasons. One. Saeko loves you Takashi. When she went down it was your name she called, not mine."

He paused for a moment.

"And Two," he continued, biting back his own pain. "No child should have to grow up without knowing their father."

Takashi's eye's widened. "Wha..?"

"Yeah, she's pregnant dumbass," Chris interrupted. "Now here's what's going to happen. I'm going to let you go. You're going to go back there and be by Saeko's side and we're going to forget this ever happened. Saeko is you're wife Takashi. You will love her and your child and treat her like the warrior princess she is for the rest of your lives because if you don't if you ever leave or abandon them, I will hunt you down, and kill you myself. Do we understand each other?"

Takashi gave a weak nod. He had been an ass and wanted nothing more to run to Saeko's side.

Chris nodded and released his choke hold, coming to his feet and standing as Takashi collapsed onto all fours and caught his breath, before circling his rival and helping him to his feet.

They shared a respectful stare, and a magnanimous nod, before Takashi ran inside and back to Saeko.

Alone again. Chris let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, before retaking his position against the rails and beginning to cry. He had just surrendered the woman he loved, his sole reason for living, to another man who loved her.

He looked down at the black waves below. His self-appointed role of her guardian had been taken from him. For the briefest moment, he considered the jump.

The door opened once again. Chris looked out of the corner of his eye, expecting to see Takashi with the bearer of bad news.

Instead, he found Rei, her ginger hair floating in the breeze, and her pale skin silhouetted against the light.

"Takashi came back," she said, walking over next to him. "Heck of a bruise on his jaw…"

Chris chuckled as he looked down at his now purpling left hand. "We had to get some things straight," He said. "He'll be ok now."

"And you?" Rei asked, meeting his eyes with her amber ones. "Will you be ok?"

"Well…" Chris pondered for a moment before sighing deeply. "I just gave up any chance I had left to be with the woman I loved. So beyond my duty to the military, I'm short a reason to live. But I'm sure I'll find something, eventually."

"Then allow me," she said softly.

Chris turned to face her, slightly confused by what she meant until she cupped his jaw in her hand and planted her soft lips on his. His eye's widened in surprise, before giving way to her softness and the sweet taste of cherries on her lips. They stayed like that for a moment before the pulled away and they broke apart.

"Don't stay out here too long," she said with a smile, "You'll catch a cold otherwise." Before turning and heading back inside.

Chris watched her go, her angelic form silhouetted against the artificial light of the ship. Even after she disappeared he stayed there, awestruck at what happened. After a minute, he smiled.

Perhaps he had a reason to live after all…

* * *

 **Well, here we are again.  
**

 **As you can probably tell, I'm starting to draw Archangel to a close. There will be one more full chapter after this, followed by a short Epliogue and then it's done. I've put a poll on my profile so you guys can vote on what I write next, please have a look.**

 **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. As ever please review/favourite and follow and I'll see you next time.  
**

 **Jango**


	14. Chapter 13

**Operation: Archangel**

 **Chapter 13**

 **Hakodate  
Z-day + 2983  
D-Day+48  
23:47**

In the pitch darkness of the midnight Hokkaido shore, a small fishing boat bobbed gently in the water as the surf pushed it ashore.

To the naked eye it appeared to be abandoned, just one of a million such boats that had been set adrift over the years, either from a storm causing it to slip its harbor moorings and blowing it out to sea, or ran out of fuel from carrying panicked survivors out to the supposed safety of the sea.

However, this boat was not as innocent as it seemed.

As the tide finally pushed it into the sand banks, a quartet of camouflage clad figures disembarked and made their way up the beach. They moved quickly and silently, careful only to step within the lead man's boot prints to disguise their numbers. They only paused briefly at the sea wall to boost each over the twelve-foot-high wall before they continued on, not stopping until they'd cleared the line of abandoned sea front houses and made their way into the cover of the fields and wood blocks behind.

The patrol spread out into an all-round defense, interlocking their legs with Tigger crouched in the middle. Satisfied they were undetected, he pressed his ear radio comms.

"Zero, this is Bravo Seven One, we're feet dry on position Alpha. Will hold till H-hour then proceed to Objective Pegasus. Out."

H-hour was 00:15 hours, at which time, the land stage of Operation: _Kraken Strike_ would commence.

Following the Spetsnaz raid on Camp Wellington, any and all chance of a peaceful negotiation with the Pan-Asian Naval Alliance had evaporated. The remaining British and Japanese commanders agreed that the threat the alliance posed could not be ignored, and was to be removed by force. Operation: _Kraken_ , was designed to remove the threat in a single, devastating strike. The plan consisted of two stages: a stealth insertion under the codename 'Operation: _Kraken_ ', and an amphibious assault, codenamed 'Operation: _Strike_.'

Operation: _Kraken_ consisted of two, simultaneous covert strikes designed to remove the two main threats to the amphibious landings. Namely the airbase at Hakodate Airport, and the warships in Hakodate harbor.

Following the Spetsnaz raid, almost the entirety of the taskforce's fixed wing air support had been destroyed on the ground, so much so that there were too few fighter and strike aircraft remaining to guarantee air superiority over the landing forces. So when satellite recon had spotted almost an entire squadron's worth of MiG-29 fighter jets and SU-25 bombers stationed at Hakodate Airport, it was necessary to eliminate them.

The job was given to the SAS, who, as well as Tigger's Bravo Seven troop, had committed two other troops to the operation. They were too infiltrate ashore and remove the threat of the aircraft as well destroying troop specific targets; Bravo Five would attack the fuel depot, Bravo-Six the radar station, and Bravo Seven the pilot's barracks.

While the SAS were busying themselves with the airfield, their naval cousins; the SBS, would be seeing about the warships in the harbor. Deploying from HMS _Ambush_ , which was lurking somewhere offshore, the combat divers would swim into the harbor and plant limpet mines on the underside of every warship and submarine in the harbor. At 01:00, or if manually detonated early, the mines would sink every ship in the harbor before they could fire a shot.

Tigger guessed the divers were already hard at work. Despite their inter-service rivalry, he doffed his hat to them. Combat diving was a dangerous business, even by special forces standards. He wouldn't do it given the choice.

Once they'd finished with the airfield, the SAS had secondary targets to hit; local garrisons, missile batteries, infrastructure targets etc. But if they couldn't, HMS _Ambush_ , as well as several Royal Artillery Ground Multiple Launch Rocket System (GMLRS) concealed in Oma on the other side of the straights, were tasked to destroy them with pinpoint Tomahawk and Surface to Surface missile strikes.

Once all targets were neutralized, Operation: Strike would begin. An all-out combined arms attack by the British Army, Royal Marines, and SDF would hit three beaches around Hakodate, codenamed _Nodachi_ , _Katana_ , and _Tanto_ with the end of day objectives for each beach being the Government Offices, Army National Guard training base, and Hakodate airport respectively. With any luck, by day's end, they'd have eliminated the Pan-Asian alliance's ability to strike at the task force, and have a foothold on Hokkaido.

But as every soldier in every age had been taught from day one of basic training; no plan survives contact with the enemy.

As his watch read 00:15, Tigger shifted his rifle to a low ready and whispered to his team.

"That's H-hour. Let's do it."

Bravo Seven did not reply vocally, they simply stood one by one and continued towards the airfield.

It didn't take them long to reach the airfield, stalking their way through the surrounding forest and undergrowth until they came to the treeline. Five meters on stood a three-meter chain link fence topped with rolls of barbed wire. Beyond that were the distant shapes of strike aircraft, hangers, and ancillary buildings, like strange prehistoric creatures in an alien land.

The perimeter was surprisingly lightly guarded for a military base that had just attacked another power. Had it been a British base, there would have been watch towers, search lights, constant patrols, dogs, camera's, maybe even a layered mine field. Doubtless, there were _some_ defenses, but by now the guards would be tired, relaxed, and not expecting an attack in the dead of night.

As Tigger, Rika and Oz covered, Coppers moved forwards and started cutting a hole in the wire with a small pair of wire cutters. As Coppers worked, he couldn't help but smile. He was deadly focused on the task, and he would soon be gutting this airfield and its occupants like a pig at slaughter. But despite himself, Coppers couldn't help but feel he that he was following the footsteps of his great grandfather.

Corporal David Gallagher, had been one of the founding members of 'L detachment', the group that would, under the legendary David Sterling, become the SAS. He had been there during their first disastrous operations against the Germans, been there when they'd joined forces with the long range desert group and started raiding Luftwaffe airfields from heavily armed jeeps. And while he wasn't manning a K-gun and mowing down German infantry… Coppers could feel his grandfather smiling down upon him.

He snapped the last link of wire and removed the cut segment before crawling through on his belly. "Clear, we're in."

The other operators crawled through the wire and stalked across the field towards the waiting buildings and aircraft. This was when they were most vulnerable, when it could all go to hell in a hand basket. All it would take was one half awake guard with a scope or searchlight to spot the slightest bit of black on black movement in the darkness and raise the alarm.

Fortunately, it seemed luck was on their side. No alarms were raised, and they reached the relative safety of the shadow of the first jet in a line of waiting aircraft, undetected. Silently they went to work, setting charges of C4 with remote detonators, placing a charge in different places in each jet on the line; in fuel lines, engine intakes, exhausts, landing gear bays.

It took the roughly twenty minutes to do the work, but they'd all carried in explosives and had enough to go around. As Oz and Rika set to wiring the MiG in the line, Tigger moved to their secondary, more personal objective. He turned to Rika and Oz and handed the latter the detonator.

"You two finish wiring the jet then get back to the RV. Blow the jets on time whether we're back or not. Coppers, with me."

Rather than argue with the seasoned officer, Oz and Rika just nodded, returning to their work as Tigger and Coppers headed off towards the nearby barracks buildings.

The duo crept along the edge of one of the buildings; a prefab building the type of which were unique to military bases the world over, crouched low underneath the windows.

"Sir, this is officer country," Coppers pointed out, his voice just above a whisper so only Tigger would hear him and those inside would not over the sound of their own conversations and music.

"I know," Tigger replied, as they came to the edge of the building. It was just one in a line of prefabs, but going by the hand painted squadron insignia on the door, this was one of the few which housed pilots.

Tigger slung his C8 and drew his Sig, threading its suppressor over the muzzle. He glanced at his watch, six minutes till the bombs went off across the base. He turned to Coppers.

"Fresh mag?" He whispered. Coppers nodded.

After a cursory glance around to check that the coast was clear, Tigger stood from the shadows and, as if he were walking into his own home, stepped into the barracks room with Coppers just behind.

Inside were around a dozen pilots. Mainly Russian but a few Chinese dotted among them, the air thick with the smell and cigar smoke of Tabaco. Some were on their bunks reading or sleeping, one was playing on an antiquated Gameboy, but most were gathered around a table towards the back, midway through a round of poker.

Initially, they didn't notice the new comers, until one looked up and paled at the sight of two fully kitted operators standing at the other end of the bunk house. The room went deathly quiet as they all looked at the Brits. Tigger cracked an evil smile.

"Good evening," He said quietly.

Without warning, Tigger raised his Sig and shot the closest pilot through the head with a dull _thwack_. The body hadn't yet hit the floor when he switched targets and shot the gamer twice through the heart, sending him tumbling over backward as Coppers opened up on the poker came on full auto. Some of the pilots tried to dive for cover or reach for weapons, but none made it out of their holsters before being punctured by hollow point rounds to the sound of dull wet thumps.

The slide on Tigger's Sig locked back as he expended the last round in his magazine and Copper's ceased fire. They looked around the room; the smell and smoke of cordite mixed with the haze of Tabaco and nothing moved except some brass casings rolling on the vinyl coated floor. Tigger released his Sig's magazine, letting it clatter to the floor before replacing it with a fresh one, releasing the slide forwards while Coppers swapped out his depleted mag for a fresh one.

"Alright, let's go," Tigger said, having had enough of the blood bath he'd just caused. He and Coppers left without another word. They had only minutes to get across the base before the bombs went off.

Once they made it past the Jets they broke into a sprint, trading stealth for speed as they rushed across the open ground. A search light bathed them in white light for a second, blinding them for a moment before it ceased as the suppressed supersonic _crack_ rolled across the field. More lights winked on. They could hear distant shouting from behind them as the two kept running, expecting to be shot by snipers as they practically dove back through the hole they'd made.

They retreated a few meters into the treeline and found Oz and Rika waiting for them. Rika was prone behind her PSG, while Oz was waiting, C8 in one hand and his eye's darting between the field and his watch.

"Time?" Tigger asked, slightly short on breath from the full kit half a kilometer sprint he and Coppers had just done.

"30 Seconds," Oz replied, before offering Tigger the detonator. "You want the honors?"

Tigger nodded and excepted the detonator, eyes now glued to his watch.

Never before had thirty seconds seemed like such a long time. People were beginning to run around, distant shouting could be heard as the guard's found the bodies of the pilots and rushed to find the intruders.

As his watch passed 00:45:00, Tigger clicked the detonator.

For a second nothing happened. The horrible thought of the detonators having failed just began to rear its head before a great orange fireball erupted, engulfing the first jet as a second and third detonation thundered, signaling the end of the fuel depot and radar station and accrediting Bravo's five and six's handiwork.

Bravo Seven all cracked a smile as they watched the fireballs engulf the jets, turning the once proud aircraft into nothing but warped scrap metal and bonfires.

"Beautiful Ain't it?" Coppers commented as another jet exploded. "Someone should take a picture."

"No time mate, we're off," Tigger said. They'd already overstayed, they would be hunted now, they needed to be gone before the search parties found their infill point and picked up their trail.

And as silently as they had come, Bravo Seven disappeared into the night, then only voice being Tigger reporting on the radio.

" _Bravo Seven reporting, all Objective Pegasus targets destroyed. Moving to secondary targets. Out."_

...

 **On approach to Landing Beach Katana  
Z-day + 2984  
D-Day+49  
05:40**

Huddled in the packed troop bay of a Landing Craft Vehicle Personnel MK 5, Captain Griffin checked his L85 assault rifle over one last time. Ejecting and checking the top round in the magazine for deformities before replacing it with a satisfying click, all while listening to the mission update coming over the battle net.

"Charlie-Four-Two-Zero. Acknowledged. WILCO, out," He spoke into his radio before rising to his feet, grasping the overhead hand holds to steady himself as the landing craft forced its way through the buffeting seas.

"Lads! Listen in!" He shouted. Thirty-four cam creamed, steely eyed marines turned to face him.

"Update from command! The Russkies have set up a fixed artillery battery in target's courtyard! Enemy ECM and Air defense means the arty and air support can't flatten it, so we've been tasked to take it out the hard way! Questions?"

There were none. Everyone knew what they had to do, this is what they trained for. The overhead intercom suddenly crack in with the voice of the boat commander.

" _30 Seconds. Standby to beach."_

"You heard him, lads! Stand too!"

The commandos rose to their feet and spread out as best they could, holding on to the hand holds to keep their footing. This was what they did best. The Royal Marines had long since proven their mastery of the art of amphibious assault, anytime, anywhere from the American coast to eastern sands, by sword, by gun, or by bare hand.

"Really missing the kid and his swords about now!" One of the marines said, shouting to be heard over the noise of the landing craft's engine as well as both the incoming and outgoing fire.

"Not a kid anymore!" Another marine shouted back, interrupted by the bark of the craft's own GPMGs opening fire on the shore.

"I saw him tonguing some fit ginger bird on the QE2! Our Boy's become a man!"

A heckling cheer and din filled the troop bay as the marines cheered and drummed their rifles against the deck in approval. Griffin couldn't help but smile. He was proud of his former apprentice. Young had done well for himself, both in military terms and, from the sound of it anyway, in his private life too…

The landing craft suddenly jerked to a halt and the laughed died. This was it.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the ramped drop and it was on.

"GO!"

The Marines stampeded out of the landing craft, stomping through the surf and rushing up the beach and away from the landing craft, spreading out as they did. Griffin was surrounded by the noise of war; the sharp _snap, crack_ and _pop_ of incoming and returning rifle and machine gun fire, the deafening _buzz_ of helicopters passing low overhead, even a tooth rattling _Boom!_ as a Challenger II rolled ashore and fired on an enemy machine gun position, demolishing an entire floor of the target seaside office block.

Just as Griffin reached the relative safety of the sea wall, a slightly familiar voice came over his earpiece. _"Charlie-Four-Two-Zero, this is Ajax-one. Ajax's one and two are ashore and at your disposal. Over."_

"Copy Ajax-one!" Griffin replied, happy to have close a hundred and forty tonnes of tanks attached to them. "Move up clear us a way off this beech!"

" _Roger, out!"_

The Pan-Asian Naval Alliance's ground forces had clearly prepared the beach against an infantry and light vehicle assault, having covered the beach with machine guns and barricaded the vehicle exits with abandoned cars and lorries, but he somehow doubted they'd been ready for main battle tanks roaring ashore.

Griffin watched as the two Challengers roared up the beach, each kicking up a trail of sand towards a ramp in the sea wall; the only place they could get vehicles off the beach, which was barricaded by wrecked vans and cars; probably booby trapped too. To his surprise (and horror of the defenders) rather than stop and attach heavy chains to drag them aside as was procedure, the tanks fired into the cars, blowing them aside with a single, well placed high explosive round before pushing up the ramp, shoving aside the burning vehicle remnants with their dozer blades.

"Let's Move!" Griffin shouted, leading his company up the ramp and following the tanks forward into one of the streets leading into town and towards their objective.

"One platoon, Left Side! Two platoon, Right! Three Platoon cover the rear! Command section on me!"

Under the guidance of their platoon Sergeants and officers, the marines quickly moved to their sides of the road, using the buildings as cover and protecting the tanks from any would be ambushers lurking in the buildings.

As the tanks pushed into town, Lieutenant Roberts popped his hatch and took control of his pintle mounted GPMG, racking the slide with a satisfying clack. He panned the weapon left to right, covering the marine's and tank's flanks as they passed streets and alleyways.

"Stay alert," he told his crew as well as the crew of _Hellfire_ following behind over the platoon channel. "I want remote weapons covering high. Cover ground level windows and doors with the coax. Watch those thermals, I'll keep an eye on the streets."

Most of these buildings had been abandoned. It was unsurprising that they had been; _very_ very few cities had been reoccupied in their full, most were divided into walled districts within the pre-fall settlement's who's names they carried. Most of the small houses and commercial buildings had been looted, some had even collapsed from years of abandonment. The crack of rifle fire rang out constantly from the middle distance, occasionally interrupted by a clatter of machine gun fire, the whine of a mortar shell, grump of a grenade, or the whoosh of a rocket launcher.

As _Rosehip_ rounded the final corner to take them to their objective, Roberts' jaw dropped. Up ahead in the road, local forces had erected a barricade, with roughly a platoon of infantry waiting in cover… supported by a Type 90 main battle tank.

Roberts didn't even have time to finish screaming "CONTACT FRONT!" and duck into the turret before the Type 90's gun flashed. The sabot round ricocheted off _Rosehip_ 's turret, tearing away the remote weapons station leaving just a sparking torn base, and a large dent where the round had glanced off the turret armor. _Rosehip_ shook from the impact, the sound of shearing metal and _pop_ s as small arms fire ricochet off her hull. Robert's dropped into the turret.

"DAMAGE REPORT!"

"Remote weapon station's gone!" Will shouted back. "But otherwise we're ok!"

"Casualties?"

"No, we're good!"

"Right! Fire! Sabot! Fire! Ice the fucker!" Robert's ordered as he stood back up in his cupola, grabbing his gimpy and opening fire as _Rosehip_ jumped, her main gun kicking up a small dust storm as the HE round they'd had loaded left the barrel.

It slammed into Type 90, exploding on the Japanese tank beneath its gun barrel. It might have stunned, maybe wounded the crew, but the tank was still operational. No sooner had the spent shell casing clattered to the Challenger's floor, Mike hurled a Sabot round into the breech. And as soon as he was clear; Meg fired again.

Unlike High Explosive Anti-Tank rounds, or HEAT rounds, which used a jet of molten copper to melt through armor, Fin Stabilized Discarding Sabot rounds, FSDS or simply Sabot, fired a hypersonic tungsten dart that punched through tank armor with sheer kinetic energy. And while the Type 90 was a tough tank, it couldn't take a Sabot round at point blank range. The round punched through it's weakened, charred armor and gutted the interior; ripping through armor plate, hydraulics, ammunition, bulkheads and the crew, like a hot knife through butter. The tank's engine exploded and died as molten shrapnel cascaded through it, signaling the death of the tank.

With the death of their armor support, the enemy infantry's fire began to waiver. Seizing the chance, the Marine's rushed forward and started laying into the outnumbered defenders while the tanks kept their heads down with their coax machine guns. Keen to keep the attack moving, Griffin moved to the front.

"2 platoon, suppressing fire! 1 platoon, advance!"

Under the cover of two platoon and the tanks, 1 platoon leapfrogged forwards, each section taking turns laying down fire as their colleagues advanced. They got to within 20 meters of the barricade before Griffin shouted his next order.

"Fix bayonets!"

To some critics, the idea of a bayonet charge was archaic, barbaric, and downright uncivilized. They were right, but it was also damn effective. There are few things as terrifying as having thirty angry royal marines charging your position, screaming their heads off with the intent to bury a six-inch serrated steel blade into your guts. As the covering fire lulled to allow the marines to advance, some of the defenders poked their heads above their hastily erected barricade. They were horrified to be greeted with the sight of charging marines who either fired on them as they popped their heads up, or vaulted the barricade and ran them through with their bayonets, leaving no survivors.

"Position clear! Move up!"

Requiring no further invitation, Roberts ordered _Rosehip_ forward. Dumping the forward mounted dozer blade, the close to seventy-tonne tanks pushed aside the barricade with as much effort as one might draw back a curtain. Even the Type 90, now immobile and dead, was pushed aside with little fuss; it's deceased crew and wrecked transmission offering no resistance to the Challenger's shoves.

With the obstacles clear, they pushed onto their final objective; the Army National Guard base.

What had previously been just a small training outpost, was now the lynchpin in the local defense. With the destruction of the enemy's pre-prepared artillery and HQ positions by infiltrating special forces teams, as well as artillery and air strikes; this small camp and the surviving wheeled artillery pieces that they had were the only serious military hardware the Naval Alliance had left.

The tanks pushed over the high wire fence surrounding the base and spread out with the marines flooding in; now free of the restricting confines of the city streets. However, it seemed that the defenders weren't willing to give up their last HQ without a fight.

Flashes of machine gun fire erupted from the windows of the buildings, peppering the tanks and cutting down some marines before they could take cover; what little there was to be had in the open training field they'd emerged into.

Griffin threw himself onto his belly as rounds cracked by where he had been a moment ago. As he propped himself up on his elbows and pulled his rifle into his shoulder, a deep dull _thump,_ accompanied by the sound of snapping metal and metallic clamping drew his attention. One of the tanks _, Hellfire_ shuddered to a halt some distance away, it's left track snapped and dangling off its front guide wheel, the crew spilling out of rapidly opening hatches.

"All tanks halt! All tanks halt!" Griffin shouted into his radio. "Enemy AT mines in play! Hold position and lay down covering fire until we can clear them."

As response, _Rosehip_ 's gun flared and reduced a barracks building to exploding rubble before panning around with its machine guns blazing into the other buildings. The volume of incoming fire seemed to lessen and Griffin seized the initiative while he could.

He sighted down his rifle's ELCAN sight and waited for a target to appear. Two hostile infantry appeared, carrying the long tube on an anti-tank weapon between them: intent on finishing the disabled _Hellfire._ Griffin snapped his sight to the soldier's chest and fired twice, hitting him twice before giving his partner the same treatment, dropping both of them. Springing to his feet, Griffin waived his marines' forward, leg's pumping hard to propel his armored form forward at a sprint into the cover of a nearby building, a section of marine's falling in behind him.

Glancing around the corner, Griffin sighted their objective. Dug into rapidly prepared positions were a trio of FH70 field guns, 155mm towed howitzers that were used by various countries globally and, while old, could still hurl a 43-kilogram high explosive shell up to 30 miles.

In front of the guns, however, were a series of sandbag gun positions manned with Type 62 machine guns. They would need to go before they could take the guns.

Formulating a plan, Griffin gave a quick brief to his troops:

"UGLs and LSWs up front, lay down a volley on those MG nests till they're gone. Once they're gone from a fire support section and watch out flanks. Everyone else with me, fire and maneuver through the enemy positions and into the gun battery. Just watch your fire, we don't need to be detonating any HE shells prematurely. Happy?"

The marines nodded, satisfied at the plan. One of them pulled a smoke grenade from his pouch and handed it to Griffin, who took it and pulled the pin, keeping the bumped depressed.

"Right, let's do it!" He said before throwing the black cylinder around the corner. The L83A2 smoke grenade spun in the air as its fuse ran out before landing in the grass, spraying a cloud of concealing white phosphorus between the machine gun positions and the Brits.

A sporadic reactionary burst of MG fire passed through the thickening smoke, before four marines sprinted forwards, two taking a knee, popping off 40mm grenades HE from their L85's under barrel grenade launchers while their other colleagues started firing suppressing bursts from their L86 Light Support Weapons, a longer barrelled light machine gun variants of the standard L85. When the 40mm grenades detonated and the machine gun's paused, Griffin shot to his feet.

"Let's go!" Griffin shouted as he shot around the corner, accelerating to a full sprint through the smoke screen, catching a lung full of white phosphorous as he did which caused him to cough, but kept going, pausing at the edge of the smoke cloud and dropping to a knee to fire short, full auto bursts at anything that moved before springing forwards again. He reached the MG position after a few sprinting strides. The gun nest was a fucking mess; the remains of the operator had caked the interior of the sandbags blood red with bits of sinew and bone pasted around the position, the poor boy's severed head shoulders lying among the gore. The smell and sight nearly made Griffin wretch. Poor bastard must have had one of the UGLs land right on top of them; a quick, if nasty way to go.

Around him, the firefight started to taper off, the artillery crews and remaining defenders had lost their stomach for a fight after the marines overran their final defense perimeter. Marines herded the surrendering soldiers together under the watchful eyes of the sergeants, searching them for any weapons or Intel at gunpoint.

As Griffin looked down at the machine gun nest; Lieutenant Roberts and Sergeant Roderick came up to him.

"Position secured sir," Roderick informed him. "The lads took the CP intact and we're sweeping out the last of the barracks buildings now."

"Good work Staff," Griffin said absently as he tore his gaze away from the gun nest. "What are our losses?"

"Three of yours dead, another four wounded," Roberts said, hands on his hips. "Another one of mine on top, _Hellfire_ 's driver lost his foot when ithit that mine."

"Have the medics set up a first aid post and evac the wounded," Griffin ordered. "Get everyone else not on the prisoners into defensive positions. I'll get on the horn to command to send up some reinforcements."

Roberts and Roderick nodded before heading off to their tasks, while Griffin took one last look at the head of the MG operator, before he went off in search of his command section's radio operator.

People die in war. It was an unfortunate side effect. But maybe by their actions and losses, others may their lives in peace.

* * *

 **So yeah, the last full chapter of Archangel. Standby for Epilogue...**

 **Please Review/ favourite/ follow... well not much point following considering this is the last chapter, but hey, if you want...  
**

 **Jango**


	15. Epilogue

**Operation: Archangel**

 **Epilogue**

 **Companions Rest  
Z-day +3714  
D-Day +778**

 **Thursday, 2 June 2022** **  
** **07:00**

Chris stirred beneath the folds of his futon, brought about by the warmth of the summer sun through the think shoji walls of his room at Companions Rest, as well as the familiar weight on his chest and arms. He opened his eyes to the familiar sight of his beautiful girlfriend sleeping peacefully on top of him, her ginger hair flowing across him and her light snores coming out like puffy sighs.

Chris smiled as he brushed one of her stray hair antennae out of her face and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Rei let out a subconscious sigh of comfort and continued to snooze happily. However, as much as he wished he could stay like this forever, he had something important to attend to.

Carefully, and without waking Rei, he wriggled free of her grasp, replacing a pillow in her arms so she wouldn't notice his absence for a while. He quietly dressed into his normal 'in camp' attire, donning a white training Gi with his swords tucked into the black belt tied around his midriff and his brown assault boots, before slipping out of the room as silently as a ninja.

As he stepped into the daylight, Chris smiled at what he saw.

Companions Rest had changed much in the last two years. The walls had been expanded and new buildings built, mainly to accommodate the vast numbers of new arrivals that had come. Stables had been constructed to accommodate the horses they had found a while back. Pens for livestock had been built and even a blacksmith forge was now available, new tools and weapons as well as repairing old ones.

In silent appreciation, Chris crossed the compound heading for the training grounds and was unsurprised at what he found.

Saeko stood proudly before a group of twenty samurai, watching quietly as Alice lead them through their morning training. Her prosthetic leg was barely visible beneath her Gi's trouser leg, and she leaned on her new sword like a walking stick. It had taken her the better part of a year to get fully back on her feet, but following her rehab and getting used to walking on her new leg, she had picked up her training again and re-trained herself to the point that she was even better than she was before. An impressive feat, considering she was raising her new born child at the same time.

Chris smiled at the crib that sat on the ground next to Saeko, pleased to see his goddaughter was snoozing peacefully.

As he observed the Samurai's training, he heard the gentle squash of mud under boot as someone approached from behind him.

"I can see why you like it here Lieutenant," Griffin said as he stood next to his former apprentice. "It's beautiful. And peaceful."

Young nodded in agreement, trying to work out how to phrase his request to his former CO.

Major Griffin was here to oversee the drawdown of British support from Companions Rest. After two years of support, Japan was finally starting to get back on its feet. A new capital settlement and government had been established in Tokyo, and settlements had been established throughout Japan, each contributing something unique to the nation as a whole. There was still much to be done, but Japan had come to the point, where the UN had seen fit to withdraw the British task force and redeploy them, as their skills and services were needed elsewhere.

Much of their equipment would be staying; the infrastructure they'd built, the settlements' they'd established, the resources and weapons they'd donated, even some of the support ships that had been deployed over the years would stay to help restart the Japanese merchant fleet. However, their soldiers, weapons and vehicles were leaving, and that included the Marines along with it… all of them.

"Major…" Chris began, "I have a request to make."

Griffin cocked an eyebrow at his former apprentice. He had a feeling this was coming.

"I want you to write me up as missing presumed dead," Chris said. "File a report saying I went out on patrol one day and never came back. Search and rescue didn't find any trace of me, I just… vanished."

"I see," Griffin said. He was not the first soldier to ask this request. There were many tales of soldiers who went missing on the end of a long deployment in a foreign land, especially if the soldier had made a life for himself over there.

"You realize what you're planning is desertion?" Griffin stated. "You're abandoning your post and your duty."

"I know," Chris replied, not taking his eyes of the training samurai. "But there is nothing for me in England. I have no purpose there. Here, I have a family, a purpose, a life…" He paused as he looked up at the main house, Rei just appearing on the front decking

"… a home."

Griffin studied his apprentice. More so now than when he had ever seen him, Chris was happy. He was truly at ease in this place. More at home in a gi with swords at his side than he ever was in greens with a rifle… and who was he to deny him happiness?

"Very well," Griffin said. Chris turned to face his former instructor. "I'll file you as MIA presumed KIA and have your personal effects shipped her to your 'next of kin' along with a final supply drop."

"Thank you, sir," Chris answered, bowing to his former commanding officer.

Griffin smiled and offered Chris a hand. "It's been an honor, Lieutenant Young."

"The honor was mine, sir," Chris replied, shaking his hand firmly. "I wish you happiness and good fortune in the years to come."

Griffin nodded his thanks and departed, leaving Chris alone for a moment before another figure, dressed entirely in black came up to him.

"You figure it out with your commander?" Coppers asked, nodding towards where Griffin had left towards.

"Yeah," Chris replied before turning to face his fellow Brit. "Did you?"

"Yeah, boss understood," Coppers replied, having made the same request of Captain Tigger the night before, so he could stay with Rika and his soon to be born child. "You think we made the right choice?"

"Yeah," Chris nodded, placing a hand on Coppers' shoulder before turning to head back to Rei.

"We did mate. We're home."

* * *

 **There we go, Archangel is officially completed.  
**

 **Special thanks firstly to Draco38, who has, as ever, been an awesome beta reader and generally a great guy to chat with about stuff. Also, thank you to Poynton90 for being a frequent reviewer, whose reviews kept me encouraged to keep going and also encouraged me to keep writing.**

 **Anyway, by popular vote (two out of the three who voted) my next project is going to be a story following Kohta as a member of a PMC. I've got an initial draft worked up but it's got a _long_ way to go before it's ready. So keep an eye open for it... unless more people vote for something else...**

 **I hope you all enjoyed reading Archangel and I thank you, seriously, thank you for reading.  
**

 **See you all on the next project...**

 **Jango.**


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